His Butler, My Master
by Sachelarot
Summary: Pins... like a butterfly on a corkboard... a soft touch... a redemption... an escape... and a pain that will never fade until I take it from you.
1. Chapter 1: Papillon

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _Papillon_ means _Butterfly_ in French.

* * *

**-1-**

**Papillon**

His eyes widened, a feeling of anticipation and creeping fear, despite his resignation to the demon looming ever so closer to his face. His one clear blue orb reflected that pale, slender visage, those crimson eyes that started to glow with the hunger for the soul that lay within that frail shell standing before him. Despite his rising terror, Ciel Phantomhive did not quiver, though he felt extremely fatigued, like he could have fallen asleep on the grass and slept a thousand years.

_How would it feel?_

He had rejected the painless method the demon had proposed, and now a light series of thoughts played in his head: the consideration of how Sebastian was going to go about ending his existence. Would he just swallow him whole, or would he rip his soul out like a fish on a line? He waited in silent terror, feeling it bloom within his core, as his death slowly enclosed the space between them.

His answer came as a brief soft press of cold lips against his own. Ciel's eyes widened in surprise, until all the warmth seemed to slowly drain from him, starting from his fingertips and toes, and through every vein and muscle in his body. A wave of arctic chill, coursing over every fiber of his being. Sebastian's arm encircled the boy's waist, as if anticipating a drawback. However, Ciel couldn't feel anything anymore. His limbs refused to operate, and his tongue was stilled, muting any chance of raising the boy's voice once more.

Then, they came.

Pins.

The feeling of needles coursing throughout his entire body. Tiny prickling sensations that were quick and sharp, invisible, yet incredibly painful. First one through his shoulder, followed by another 10 through his fingers. Every inch felt like a cold pin being pushed into his very being, locking his soul into place. The pins rose up in his throat, trickled down his legs, drove into his eyebrows and cheeks.

His legs buckled out from under him, and Sebastian easily caught him before he was near the ground. Drawing him into a bridal style lift, the elegant demon carried his paralyzed prey through a decrepit archway. The rooms of the ruined mansion slowly began to resemble the masonry of a graveyard, crowded with mausoleums of unknown origins.

Though Ciel was motionless, he was still aware of his surroundings, glimpsing the peaks of the mausoleums above Sebastian's head and shoulders. Black wrought iron fences, stoic symbols, and white sculptures that silently mourned the unfortunate residents of the stone houses they guarded. Sebastian walked quietly throughout the graveyard, a still mist curling about his form as he reached a white mausoleum with a large black door.

Ciel could barely make out the crest above the doorway; a raven with widely stretched wings, a cat with a open mouth, as if mid-yawn, surrounded by a twisting garland of thorns and feathers. Though the impalement of the pins stung every inch of his being, his mind, through the white light of pain, still pondered what lay beyond the door that Sebastian was now reaching for. Was it Hell? Would the fires of that abyss engulf them both as soon as that unholy gateway was opened? Would the demon simply toss him in, like a doll to the fireplace, and watch as he burned forever? Repentance earned for his sins and his constant cold treatment to the demon that now owned him.

Another brief, flitting possibility passed Ciel's mind, though he quickly dismissed it as pure fantasy, as he braced himself for the unknown, as the demon's fingers pressed against the ebony wood.

The door creaked open, beckoning them into the maw of darkness. Ciel's eyes refused to adjust to the oblique surroundings, rendering him blind to the further on goings.

He felt cold stone against his back, as Sebastian lay him down upon a table of black marble.

_His dinner table_, Ciel thought to himself. Though blind in the darkness, he could hear Sebastian's light steps across the floor, as he circled the bed that his prey had been laid upon. He felt him lightly grasp his frail wrists, and settle them at the level of his eyes on both sides of his head. The demon took care to straighten his legs neatly so that he was centered on the table, ankles set together.

_Like a pinned butterfly to the board_, Ciel thought, the pain of the needles apparent once again to the point of screaming, despite his muted situation. His mind felt like shattering in more ways than one, with the fear, the anticipation, the cold, the pain... all of it riding his fatigued soul.

If his tongue had worked properly, he would have shouted, "_What's taking you so long?"_ at the procrastinating demon, cross that he had decided to torture him like this, but he was not his master anymore. The weight of this truth was indeed heavy; like a brick lain upon his chest. Helpless, he waited patiently for the long expected moment.

Sebastian beside the table, looking down at what was once his young master; so cold, so young, and so unfortunate. Their few years together had yielded quite an interesting series of events, though many by far troublesome, demeaning, and downright detestable. Half of him wanted to tear the pinned butterfly apart piece by piece, and savor the soul within with the taste of sweet liberation from the young master's endless orders. However, a lingering feeling, alien, continued to ride on his hands, weighing them down from what he was so anticipating these past few years since the moment they had forged the contract together.

He reached out and gently stroked the side of Ciel's cheek with his fingertips, watching those brilliant sapphire and amethyst orbs as they stared up at the ceiling blankly from beneath half-closed eye lids.

"Enough," he muttered out loud to himself, and he pressed his index finger deep into Ciel's palm. Again, a rush of brutal pain crashed and rattled throughout Ciel's body, ripping his mind apart savagely. He pressed the other palm, and another wave ripped through. A feeling not unlike a crucifixion. A feeling like large pins being shoved into his soul through the points of flesh that Sebastian jammed his finger into. Ciel's head rang with muted screams of the blinding pain, but he had requested this, and Sebastian had honored his last request in full. Every single jab embedding itself forever in his soul, through the rock he rested against, condemning him to never fly away from his cruel fate. A pin through his legs, feet, at the elbows, shoulders, through his stomach, chest, neck, left eye...

Sebastian paused as his fingertip lightly brushed Ciel's right eye, feeling a wetness there that made his eyes widen. A tear had escaped, and led a trickling brook down the side of the boy's face.

He bit his lip, considering the delicate face below him. His previous loyalty nipped at the back of his mind like a dog at a bone, and continued to eat away at him. He hissed to himself, and shook his head.

"You don't control me anymore," he said aloud, before he wiped the wetness away and reached out for the eye with the contract that mocked his weakness.

* * *

Next chapter coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2: Blatte

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. Mature scenes to occur in later chapters.

For those of you who don't know; _Blatte_ means _Cockroach_ in French.

* * *

**-2-**

**Blatte**

Suddenly, Sebastian's head snapped up from his focus on Ciel's eye, his gaze locked on the ebony door. He stood deathly still for a moment, before his crimson eyes narrowed into thin slits and he launched himself up to his feet, trudging around the table and whipping open the door, allowing it to swing shut behind him.

Abandoned in the dark, Ciel strained through the aching pain to collect his thoughts. Something had attracted Sebastian's immediate attention, and gave him cause to surrender his moment to feast in order to search for this opposition beyond the door. Ciel longed for the will power to move his fingers, just a little, to ease the pain, but no matter how hard he strained his soul to will his body to move, he remained motionless. His awareness of the blinding pain in the places where the massive pins had been stuck renewed fresh every few minutes, and tears continued to stream from his eyes in small rivers, causing his face to sting slightly from the salt.

It was there in the dark, however, that Ciel felt something warm, and light, gloss over his face for a brief moment, as flitting as an exhaled breath. Suddenly, he heard a small whimsical giggle from the darkness that was all too familiar.

_Undertaker_, Ciel thought to himself in realization, as the giggle turned into a playful rhyme;

_"Little butterfly, blue butterfly, pinned down before his time, little butterfly, sweet butterfly, cut down before his prime!"_

Ciel longed to cry out to the disembodied Undertaker's voice, more with the hope to silence it than to have it help alleviate his pain. The song continued, as a small, almost inaudible scratching sound accompanied it:

_"Butterfly's been caught, he'll never fly again, never fly again, never fly again... your wings are torn, your body's stuck, and you'll never fly again-"_

Ciel strained to hear the last part, but it was less than a whisper before it faded completely, and was replaced by a sudden slam of the ebony door. Light from the outside world poured in for a moment, and a shadow flitted across the boy's still form. Ciel immediately recognized both the shadow, and the voice that accompanied it, though both arrived with a wave of pure disbelief and confusion.

"Ah~! There he is!" The clicking of high heels resonated on the marble as a dark silhouette emerged into his line of sight. It stood above him, and placed one arm over his body so that the daunting shadow loomed overhead. Ciel felt tiny ticklish sensations, as something whispy yet slightly prickly drifted over his face and neck. What little light persisted in the mausoleum illuminated a highlight of crimson red hair, and a glint of sharp razor-like teeth, "Stuck down fast, you really didn't want this soul to move, did you, Sebaschan? Prepared for the ripping and the tearing... the flesh will go but the soul will stay hammered down like a butterfly to a cork board! Ah, it's like poetry! Like beautiful art! Wouldn't you agree, Sebaschan?"

Sebastian's voice was like pure liquid hatred, almost an anti-characteristic snarl underlining the words, "Why are you here, Death God?"

"Well, this little brat owes me a favor." Grell Sutcliff stated, matter-of-factly, with one gloved hand twisting about a scarlet lock of hair flirtatiously, "I recall some incident ago, where he said, and I quote; Protect me, and I will let you do whatever you wish to Sebastian for one day."

"You have picked a very,_ very_bad time to collect on your debt, Mr. Sutcliff," Sebastian said, his tone now a bitter and deadly ice cold, warning the unwelcome guest that if he persisted to remain in the crypt, he'd be dealt with immediately with the utmost prejudice. Grell, however, didn't seem to let the icy sharp tone affect him. Stubbornly, he dropped his lock of hair to rest his fist against his hip, now popped out with the air of arrogance.

"No, this is the perfect time, Sebaschan," Grell said flatly, "After you're done devouring this kid, his orders won't mean shit, which means you will leave me high and dry, and he'll get the satisfaction that he used me like some ten penny whore! Except, I didn't get my ten pennies."

"Isn't that what you are?" Sebastian said, "A little red whore who falls for anything with legs and a set between them?"

"Aw, you do pay attention to me, Sebaschan! I knew you were stealing secret glances at me once in a while... though, I don't appreciate your associating a fine lady like myself with some trash. However, I'll forgive you, if you add your cherry- branch- twisting tongue to our future bridal kiss..."

Ciel was utterly lost in this almost brutal conversation, but his attention was suddenly drawn to his right hand. Grell's fingers were lightly tracing over his skin there, as if they seemed to be searching for something. Ciel's eyes were trained on the slightly illuminated face of the Death God, which seemed to be confidently staring straight ahead at where most likely Sebastian's position was. Suddenly, he felt the fingers bump against the inside of his palm, where the imaginary massive needle was embedded. Ciel's mind cried out as the pain reverberated through that spot, but he never expected what was to happen next. Grell's fingers seemed to find the pin, surround it, and quicker than the eye could pick up, had yanked the pin free from it's host. Ciel's soul felt like it was set on fire, but as unbearably painful as it was, the pain slowly started to flicker and cool in his palm, and soon, only the small prickling remained.

Sebastian's footsteps were heard again, and Ciel heard him finally say, "Why, exactly, are you here, Grell Sutcliff?"

"I told you!" Grell said, "You must have shit for ears... honestly. I've come to collect my debt before the kid is_ kaput_."

"I don't believe you," Sebastian had reached the table.

Another pin was found and yanked free, this time from his right elbow. Ciel's mind shattered again, but slowly regained itself as the pain slowly drained away through the invisible wound.

"Gaaahhh," Grell sighed heavily, and took a step back away from Ciel this time, and crossed his arms with a pout, "Okay, fine. If you really must know, I have a selfish request of my own, besides the one involving our romantic date together, that involved me interrupting your little dinner set up for a moment."

"I'm listening," Sebastian advanced another step, which caused Grell to step back again this time as well, though he had released his arms from his haughty cross, and now traced them along Ciel's leg. He once again hit a needle and yanked it free, followed by another two in Ciel's feet, as he rounded the table while drawing out his heavy and somewhat intricate 'reason' for interrupting Sebastian's moment of glory.

"You see, I wanted to see Ciel's dramatic cinematic record before everyone else did. I wanted to see its raw emotion, its delicate moments, and any... you know... special scenes that you two may have shared. Completely unedited~!" Grell's voice had gone up an octave with the mention of perversion, and it hurt Ciel's head to hear any more. His mind was given a break from it's concentration on the Death God's voice, as another pin was yanked out of his leg and he was sent reeling over the new shock of pain.

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, whether in consideration that this tripe was the truth, or shock of the very mention of himself having any sort of relation to his tiny master. He tapped his chin briefly, as Grell took a few steps back again, but tripped, falling onto the table and Ciel's left side.

Ciel immediately realized this was a facade, as the redhead searched his stomach for the promised pin, looking like he was trying to correct his situation and failing horribly. It took a few seconds of tedious scrambling, but he found his item, and yanked it out, standing up with a 'Haha~!" and turning to around to a pair of crimson eyes that now were burning with a hearty malice inches away. A smile now played on his lips as Grell's jade eyes flicked between his hand which was in a pincer-like pose, and those two devilish eyes.

"Oh dear, is correcting one's stance after such a topple really worth such celebration, my dear?" Sebastian's pale hand snaked about Grell's black gloved one, and held it up eye level, "Or, is the fact that you are undoing my restraints while lying like a snake to my face the real cause for your happiness?"

In a flash, Sebastian had Grell's throat in his hand, inches above the floor with his back pressed against the wall. Grell strained through the coughs to say, "So what? You going to add a crimson butterfly to your collection as well?"

"More like a scarlet cockroach," Sebastian laughed, tightening his grip, "And there's only one way to destroy one of those... obliterate it completely until there is not a single piece of it left to twitch."

Grell struggled against the lock, clawing with covered hands at the hands that held him aloft. Somehow, he managed to raise one leg up enough to kick Sebastian away from him. They both fell away from the wall, and the red head was able to wrench free, rubbing his neck vigorously with one hand.

"You bastard!" He shouted, feeling the rising bruises there, "how dare you treat a lady with such force!"

"I see no lady," Sebastian mocked, "just a cockroach in a red coat."

"Take that back!" Grell screeched, and he lunged for the demon, who launched him over his body and onto the table. The Death God fell against Ciel's body, and it took him a second to recover his senses, before he saw Sebastian's eyes, still alight in the darkness, turn to look up at him from below the table and begin to rise. Grell searched over Ciel's body frantically for the final pins, finding the one in his left palm and the one in his eye, before Sebastian grabbed a hold of Grell's midsection and threw him off of the table and against the other wall. Grell got up from the ground, and held his hands in front of him in a 'T'.

"Time out," Grell called, "I broke my heel."

"That's not the only thing I'm going to break in a moment," Sebastian's voice said in the dark, as he advanced upon the poor Death God once again.

"Wait a min-!" Grell shouted, before a loud crack resonated throughout the room, and he shouted, "OW!" from against another wall. Ciel strained to hear, though the sound of struggles from the corner of the room sounded like there was a stalemate.

Finally, Grell said, "Think about it, Sebastian! Aren't you being a little hasty? For a demon who prides himself on his everlasting patience and work ethic, you really are doing a rush job when it comes to this kid of yours."

Sebastian responded with a bitter, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Look at him! He's got to be bland! So young, there's not much flavor there, I'm sure! If it were I who was to devour a soul, I'd have it marinated in every spice of sin and torture that I could think of. Why invest so much energy in something that will not taste satisfying to the man who worked so hard to achieve it at the end of his day?"

There was a long silence, before the Death God continued, this time in a slight purr, "He hasn't even tasted lust yet, Sebastian... he hasn't been drenched in anything but hatred... one spice is nice, but why not make him a symphony of flavors? Why eat him now, while he's been nestled in the lap of luxury? Sure, he's loved and lost, but has he lost _everything_? Why should your moment of liberation last a single minute? Why not make him pay you back in full for every menial task he's ever forced you to do? Make him taste what it is truly like to loose everything."

Grell smiled this time, his voice carrying a vicious glee as he got carried away with his speech, "Make him taste despair in your name, Sebastian... then maybe you can drive off that annoying feeling that is telling you that you don't want to take his soul away. Think about the remarkable flavor as he looks at you with a face full of pure hatred as you baste him in every man's nightmare. Show him the true meaning of the contract he signed with you."

Sebastian remained silent as Grell walked a couple steps away and dusted off his shoulders, "It's really your decision. I give up on this whole ordeal, and I'll just explain that I thought it wasn't worth the trouble."

The Death God paused before heading for the door, and went to the headboard side of the table, bending over to lightly kiss Ciel's forehead. The boy would have shuddered, given the ability, but he was distracted by a peculiar whisper that the Death God uttered before pulling away and turning to leave the mausoleum. His hand was upon the door before he paused and looked at Sebastian, "Sebastian... think of this also, by Ciel's order, and my own request, you will take that last pin out of him yourself and give this some thought."

The demon was silent, and remained staring at Ciel for a long time, not honoring Grell with any sort of attention thereafter. Grell smiled wide and waved, "Cheery-bye~!" before leaving through the door and slamming it shut behind him, dousing the crypt once again with a blanket of blackness.

Without searching, Sebastian's fingers found the nail through Ciel's neck, and wrapped around it. With a steady jerk, the pin came free, and Ciel Phantomhive's body immediately propelled itself into a rainbow-like arch, his voice rumbling up his throat as if Hell itself was now clawing it's way out of his lungs. His freed hands clawed at his body, feeling all the prickles through his skin and pawing at the places obsessively, little rivers of blood suddenly forming, before Sebastian leaned over and brushed his lips against Ciel's once again. His head spun for a moment; the dark world, with it's barely visible silhouettes of his surroundings, seemed to quiver, and the youth instantly fell unconscious, drifting away from the darkened room, and off into some unknown dimension.

* * *

So that was Chapter 2! I hope that you liked it! Confused? All will be revealed in the chapters to come!


	3. Chapter 3: Ver

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. Mature scenes to occur in later chapters.

For those of you who don't know; _Ver_ means _Worm_ in French.

-------

**-3-**

**Ver**

A familiar feeling, rising from the pit of his stomach throughout his entire body, of utter weightlessness. The sensation of an invisible line that held him in place from his midsection, leaving him suspended and adrift in that dark space with no earth, no sky, and no stars. Ciel's eyes batted open, his vision somewhat blurry, though he could just make out the outline of his own body against the dark void that he now inhabited. Though it felt numb, he lifted his hand to inspect it, barely able to make out the curve of his finger tips. He touched his own cheek softly, hesitantly, and sighed. The feeling of the pins was gone altogether, and his pain had been hushed almost completely. He could still feel a tedious itch in his right eye, and once aware of it, continued to rub at the spot almost obsessively to relieve the irritation.

He tried to recall what exactly had happened prior to his current aloof state, and each memory opened a new door to an endless hallway of questions. Sebastian had intended to feast upon his soul, for that he was certain. He had heard Undertaker's voice in the darkness, but saw no trace of him, and for some utterly inconceivable reason, Grell had gone out of his way to brave the lion's den to pull the pins out of his body and, what sounded like, tried to convince Sebastian of sparing his life. Ciel's mind reviewed the facts several times, and the more he thought about the situation, the more his head began to pound feverishly. Though it had happened, and he had witnessed it for certain, he had trouble connecting the facts together. Eventually, he halted his thought process, and redirected it to solving the pressing question of: _where exactly was he?_

It felt familiar enough; though the first time he had been floating, it had been a realm of pure white light, and feathers had been accompanying him in an endless dance, forming a border between the demon beyond them, and himself, reminding him of the realm he was forever to be barred from should he deny the holy blessing to accept the sweets of damnation. Despite that wall of feathers, he had forged a bond with a demon: his absolute services in exchange for his soul.

The final memory drifted back to him; Sebastian had kissed him one final time, and he had slipped away into a void.

"This is death," Ciel whispered to himself, "Floating endlessly through a realm of darkness? I didn't figure I'd be aware of myself after I was ingested..."

A chuckle suddenly sounded from the void, and though it did not have an actual location, Ciel immediately recognized the voice, and felt his blood go cold.

"There has been a change in plans, Ciel Phantomhive," Sebastian's voice echoed throughout the void, and his words almost felt as if they possessed bodies of their own. Warm caresses seemed to glance about Ciel's form as every word reached his eardrums, and though it was welcome from the cold he had endured until now, it unnerved him.

"Explain," Ciel commanded, rotating his head this way and that to locate the source of Sebastian's voice.

"After giving it some thought, I did realize that I have been far too hasty in collecting what I have rightfully earned," Sebastian's voice didn't bear any malice, but it maintained his honey rich, yet razor sharp tone that both warmed and cut his soul to the bone, "Until now, you've been living in the lap of luxury. I indulged you in every request you made of me, which you made often enough with no regard to limitation, nor accepted anything less than the best of what I had to offer. I have endured torment, torture, and have even given my arm for you, young master... perhaps simply eating your soul is not payment enough for the services I've provided you loyally for the past few years."

"Cheater! You dare change our deal?" Ciel shouted, his face now red with anger and his heart twisting with rage that Sebastian made him sound like a spoilt child, when he had suffered so much and even surrendered himself without a struggle several times prior. What more, he felt absolutely betrayed.

"I apologize, did I misunderstand the contract we forged, _young master_?" '_Young master_' this time sounded like a sharpened dagger, which stabbed into Ciel's ears and twisted about, "My servitude until your wish is realized, or the event of your death... then your soul belongs to me."

Ciel's eyes widened as he considered what he had not thought of before. Sebastian had not entirely specified that his soul would be devoured nor erased entirely from existence before... but then that meant that Ciel was now subject to a entirely new (and horrifically endless) spectrum of scenarios. The thought frightened him, and his throat seized up slightly with a lump of horror, as he realized just how profoundly cruel this deal had become.

He didn't have much time to think about the outcomes in absolute detail, before Sebastian continued, "I am now altering the contract, Ciel Phantomhive. Since you are now mine, your control is now stripped entirely from you, and transfered unto me. All that was yours, now belongs to me. Everything I ask from you will be carried out in full. Failure to adhere to my commands will result in your official... resignation. Your existence in exchange for your services. I think of it a fair exchange, don't you?"

Ciel opened his mouth to respond, but the small irritation in his eye suddenly blossomed into a maelstrom of searing hot pain. He covered it with both hands, crying out in the dark. He thrashed from the feeling, trying to alleviate the pain in his eye, until he felt like the void was shaking. Suddenly, he felt the invisible line that held him skyward suddenly snap, and the wind began to rush past him as he fell from that inconceivable height, down into the darkness below.

† † † †

An irritating sensation at the tip of his nose caused Ciel to wake up. He rubbed it vigorously, driving off the threat of a sneeze, and looked around his surroundings through blurry vision. The whirl of green, yellow, and blue looked like an impressionist's painting, and he blinked a couple times in an attempt to correct his vision. He looked down and noticed that his clothes had been taken, and his body was now bare, besides a crimson silk sheet that wrapped about his waist. His attention, however, was immediately drawn to the fact that he couldn't blink his right eye. His fingers went up to it, before he felt something thick and irregular along the closed lid. In horror, he looked around, finding a crystal blue pool a few feet away from him. His body felt heavy and numb, and he had to crawl on the ground just to get to the waterside. He discarded the sheet next to him to get a proper look at what he looked like. He peered down into the water, and his good eye widened as his vision was greeted by something alien, and terribly horrifying.

_Someone else was looking back at him._

The pool's surface showed someone who looked like they had been starved for days. Long fingernails on deathly pale skin, with long, choppy, and dirty silvery-white colored hair. He had deep sleepy shadows beneath both eyes... and to his horror, the right eye bore thick black stitches along the lid.

_It was a corpse... it was ragged... it was...._

"Me," Ciel whispered in shock.

His fingers touched his face lightly with disbelief, before they came to the left eye again. He pawed at the stitches, crying out frantically as he was unsuccessful at their removal, and at his own horrific reflection. A grim shadow of Ciel Phantomhive continued to scream back at him as he backed away from the waterside and dry heaved into the brush beside him.

He reached over and clutched the scarlet sheet that he had abandoned, wrapping it around his body tightly, for the slight warmth and the protection, shaking heavily from fear, cold, and utter repulsion.

"What has become of me?!" Ciel cried out, before he heard a faint sound from somewhere off in the distance. He looked toward the source of the noise, and stood up, only to suddenly feel all the blood come rushing in a single wave throughout his body. Sharp, hot tingles ran through every vein as his numbness ebbed away, and was replaced with proper awareness of his being, which was accompanied with a dull ache that made his limbs cry out in refusal to move. He battled with the idea of remaining stationary and waiting for the entire process to end, but decided that remaining nude and alone in the cold open space was a very foolish concept, and stood up, hobbling towards the source of the sound with a newfound urgency.

He scaled a small hillside, onto a gravel strewn road. The noise was what he suspected; a horse-drawn carriage was approaching. He waved his hand up to get the driver's attention, only to see as the carriage drew closer that there was no driver. His hand slowly descended, before he started backing away from the road, clutching the sheet tighter to himself as his good eye narrowed with a heat of emotional recession. The carriage halted right in front of him, the black horses leading it nickering as if for resentment for the creature a few yards from them.

The door swung open, and Ciel gritted his teeth, as an all too familiar face emerged from the carriage's depths; dressed in much finer clothes then Ciel had often seen him fitted in. His expression bore quite an amused smile, as Sebastian stood at the steps of the carriage side. He pulled out a handkerchief and covered his nose and mouth, a little taunt in his voice as he addressed the boy who stood before him, "My, what a dirty and repulsive creature. Like a worm on the road."

"Shut up, Sebastian. Take me home at once!" Ciel barked, taking one step forward before noticing Sebastian's smile grow.

"Home? You truly want to come home with me?" He tilted his head to the side, "How curious... but why should I accept such a disgusting urchin? Look at you... you resemble a corpse."

"Your work, I'm sure," Ciel growled, "What did you do to my eye?!"

"Did I not say," Sebastian took a few steps forward, which Ciel attempted to back away from, only to trod clumsily upon the sheet and fall to the ground with a thud, "that your control was to be completely shut off?"

"So you sewed my eye shut?!" Ciel cried out, struggling to get up, "I never agreed to this new contract, Sebastian. You changed it without an agreement of both parties, so it's null and void!"

"_Tsk tsk_," Sebastian shook his head, obviously enjoying himself, "you sound so sure of yourself, Ciel Phantomhive. Did you forget already?"

He knelt down next to Ciel, and grasped a hold of his wrist, yanking him towards him briefly, "You have no say anymore. You sold yourself to me, Ciel Phantomhive, and now it's time that you pay the piper. What I do with the contract after my part has been paid in full is of no matter to you, since you can't do a thing to prevent it. Your life belongs to me now, to do with as I see fit."

Ciel growled, his voice soaked in all the hatred he bore in his soul as he hissed, "I'd rather be dead."

"Oh, is that so?" Sebastian smiled and leaned in closer so that his face was only inches from the boy's, "Then how's this for my first order? You will not die until I say you can. You will not purposely disobey my orders for the sake of breaking our deal to end yourself. You will endure everything I tell you to, and though you will probably beg for release, and you'll want me to end your pain, I will not let you go until I'm finished with you."

The demon yanked Ciel up to his feet, and pulled him over to the carriage, ushering him inside rather roughly, before entering himself. The door shut, locking Ciel within the compartment with the demon, while the horses continued on their path.

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Chapter 3! I hope that you liked it! A little more disturbing, but it gets better!

((Thank you everyone who read and reviewed this! I'm astounded that it's getting so much attention! Thank you all so very much, and I hope that you will continue reading!))


	4. Chapter 4: Moucheron

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _Moucheron_ means _Gnat_ in French.

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**-4-**

**Moucheron**

Ciel clutched the sheet around him, wadding the scarlet fabric in his balled fist as he gazed down at the floor. He refused to look up at Sebastian, knowing full well that his gloating smile was still gracing his lips. He sighed heavily, shifting his position to draw himself in further. The leather interior of the carriage was familiar, yet the darkness of it bore a foreboding feeling that caused Ciel to feel uncomfortable. He drew his legs to his chest, hugging his knees tightly. The thin fragility of his own limbs made him quiver slightly, tracing a line along one concave slope along his own leg that had become deeper than normal.

"We will have to do something about your appearance," Sebastian said, though Ciel did not honor him with a glance, "You really do look disgusting. Of course, I had to take a little time to prepare things before you could manifest. My delay caused your body to recess a little."

"You're basically saying that I was rotting?" Ciel said, tracing a blue vein along his leg with one of his nails, and scoffed as he noticed how uneven all of his nails were.

"Not exactly," Sebastian chuckled softly, "You don't carry such a rotten scent. Thank goodness."

A few moments passed, and Sebastian continued to consider the pitiful creature sitting so defensively across from him. He remembered the master who used to occupy that spot; soft and feathery slate grey hair, a porcelain doll quality body, healthily kept by his capable staff. He remembered touching that skin every morning and evening during dressing and bath times, and feeling a warmth of life and youth. Now what remained was a shadow of what that beautiful young master once was; his skin now almost translucent and looked like it would yield only the feeling of cold marble. As the carriage continued it's journey, Sebastian only continued to think about what had happened, and how they had arrived to this place. What's more, his curiosity about the warmth began to make his fingers itch.

Sebastian reached over and lightly touched Ciel's cheek, causing Ciel to glance sideways at him briefly, baring a white hot seed of hate as those fingers briefly skimmed his skin. Ciel felt his body shudder, with the instant obsession to pour scalding water on the place he was touched just to rid himself of the feeling that had slightly risen deep in the pit of his stomach. He turned his face away to look at his kneecaps again, feeling sick with disgust.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, and he responded to Ciel's attitude with slight annoyance in his tone, "Look at me."

When Ciel did not turn his head, Sebastian grasped ahold of his chin and forcibly turned it toward him.

"Ow!" Ciel slapped Sebastian's hand away from his face, and glared coldly, "Don't you dare touch me!"

Sebastian was far from pleased. His smile faded a little at the edges, and his gaze darkened. Though his hand felt little more than a brush of a cat-tail from Ciel's action, the fact that Ciel had denied him caused him to feel a small tingling of regret for the decision he made. Ciel felt uneasy, and began to shrink back into the couch as that look soaked in glacier cold water began to make him shiver. Sebastian was silent for a moment, battling away a few tedious emotions that arose, before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Given your prior position, I will forgive that action this time," Sebastian leaned forward, "but remember your new position, _boy_. Further actions like that will result in punishment. Let's not start so far behind in the game, shall we?"

Sebastian's smile slowly crept back up again, as Ciel glared at him coldly, and lifted his chin in arrogance and looked directly into those infernal eyes, "I'm not afraid of what Hell you unleash, Sebastian. I'm the Earl of Phantomhive. I'll pay my part of the deal in full, but I will never let you touch me like that again."

Sebastian's smile suddenly blossomed and he chuckled into one hand. Ciel looked at him sideways, trying to figure out what exactly he said that would cause the demon so much enjoyment. He held his head high, despite the nervous tickle at the back of his jaw.

"Did something I say amuse you?" Ciel said, voice calm and undaunted by the persisting laughter.

"Ah," Sebastian tilted his head, resting his cheekbone against his knuckles, supported by the carriage window. "I just find it amusing... how little you realize your position has changed. Perhaps you're submerged so deep in denial that you fail to see what exactly I have liberated you from."

"More like chained me to," Ciel bit his lip in thought, knowing deep in the pit of his stomach that what awaited him once they got to their destination was not what he was hoping for. He slowly traced the veins in his legs, thinking to himself, reviewing the millions of questions that whirled by in his head, and dreading reaching the conclusion that had emerged from the depths.

"Ah, we're here," Sebastian said, as the carriage turned from the main road, and down a lane lined in dark scarlet trees. Ciel looked out the window, trying to recognize his surroundings, though he was failing at placing where exactly he was.

"The mansion burned down," Ciel said, looking at Sebastian, "So I assume we're staying at the summer home?"

Sebastian smiled and raised a finger to his lips, tapping the corner of his mouth with subtle amusement, "I figured why let such a memory soaked place go to waste?"

Ciel considered that amused face with several emotions at once, part of him still nauseated as he looked upon the demon's cruel smile, another piece confused by what he had just said. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ciel clenched the sheet to his form as he crawled to the window for a better look. Rows of black bark trees with blood colored leaves swayed lightly in the breeze, almost like beckoning them homeward. As soon as the lane ended, Ciel's eye widened as a misty realm accepted them, baring within itself a fruit that Ciel thought he'd never see again.

The mansion, twice obliterated from this world, rose from the misty lake; looking hauntingly surreal. As the carriage came around, Ciel recognized the stone statues that rose from the mist, more like gravestones than pieces of garden decor. The mist prevented him from seeing the condition of the yard and the gardens, but he could make out the fountain, which lay dormant and bone dry.

Ciel shifted in his seat, changing directions to scurry to the other side of the carriage, in an attempt to see the mansion itself. The familiar doors loomed darkly from the mist that curled about them. Once before, he had felt the relief of coming home, but today, that relief had become a twisted emotion that could only form itself in the base of his spine.

"Home at last," Sebastian said, before looking at Ciel expectantly.

"You rebuilt it again," Ciel said simply, coming away from the window, only to see Sebastian with his hands crossed over his lap in wait, "Aren't we exiting?"

"I'm waiting for someone to let me out properly," Sebastian smiled.

Ciel waited a brief moment before he realized what he meant, taking the time to wrap his only article of clothing about his body before standing up and exiting himself. He closed the door behind him, and stood on his own besides the carriage, starring up at the house with something not unlike sadness showing in his one clear blue eye.

"It seems I am to haunt this house forever," Ciel whispered aloud to himself, comforted by his own words as if they belonged to someone else. He glanced about the ghostly landscape, feeling the cool fog ebb about his knees like water. His meditation was interrupted by an impatient and tedious tapping from within the carriage. Ciel turned around to see Sebastian drumming his fingertips against the glass.

"Let yourself out," Ciel muttered under his breath, before he felt a strange prickling sensation in his arms. He rubbed at them, trying to calm the feeling down, but it refused to subside. He glanced back and saw Sebastian smile at him subtly, confirming that the slight stinging was not of natural origins. Ciel turned and grabbed the metal latch, pulling the carriage's door open and stepping aside.

"Why thank you," Sebastian said curtly, before exiting the carriage himself. He turned and smiled, before patting Ciel on the head, tousling his hair in the process, "You're a fast learner, though try not to take so long next time."

Ciel muttered something inaudible under his breath before closing the carriage door behind him and following Sebastian to the mansion's doors. Sebastian stood waiting, patiently, as Ciel arrived next to him. Ciel scoffed and grasped the door handle, opening it wide and standing beside it. Sebastian passed through, only this time, stopping at the entrance. Waiting patiently yet again.

Ciel entered the massive hall, seeing the entire place as if it had never burned down at all. Every last detail was the same, down to the fades in the paint and the cracks in parts of the walls. Taking in his surroundings while closing the door behind him, Ciel took his first steps into the phoenician house, captivated in in silent nostalgia.

He heard Sebastian clear his throat behind him, and he turned to see what exactly the man required this time. He simply stood there, wearing an elegant long black coat and riding cape, with a black and silver cane in one hand, and gloves in the other. A small smile played on his lips as Ciel looked him over several times, waiting for what exactly he wanted. He liked playing this game, seeing how much Ciel could recall what exactly was expected of him.

Sebastian considered it only fair he'd give the boy a hint, and so held his arms out at full span.

"Oh," Ciel said, before he walked over to him, and while maneuvering with keeping the makeshift toga in place and accepting Sebastian's articles, he glanced around for where exactly to put them.

"Shall I help you this time?" Sebastian crooned, using the tips of his fingers to tilt the crown of Ciel's head towards the places he specified, "Gloves in the door side left drawer, cane in the stand, this one always between the wolf head and the long handle, and coats are to be taken to the laundry for proper care and maintenance, unless you must abandon them on the rack for temporary stays or guests."

Ciel shook his head to release himself from Sebastian's grasp, and shuffled towards the places, managing barely to open the drawer and lay the gloves to rest without sacrificing his grasp on the sheet. He tangled with the canes, trying to position them as directed, and considered how tedious and time consuming such instruction was.

He returned to Sebastian's side, and looking him up and down, opened his mouth to point out something quite vital, "I'm not tall enough to take your coat off."

"Oh dear," Sebastian's tone almost mocking him, "whatever shall I do? I'm doomed to wear this coat for eternity! Woe is me..."

"You could just take it off yourself and hand it to me," Ciel said, holding out his hand, "You can do at least that much."

"I don't know," Sebastian smiled down at his height challenged helper, "Let me consult a former noble."

He bent down to be eye level with Ciel, a very amused smile stretched on that elegant face, a small glimmer of joy in his eyes as they saw Ciel's insulted expression, "Do you take your coat off yourself, or do you make the help do what they were hired to do?"

Ciel frowned sourly, as Sebastian chuckled and stood straight up, towering over him. Ciel huffed, accepting the challenge. and tied the sheet tightly around his waist, threw the surplus fabric over one shoulder, and standing up as tall as he could, worked at getting Sebastian's heavy jacket off. It took a lot of grasping, and Sebastian wasn't very helpful either, every now and again commenting at the amount of time Ciel was wasting. Eventually, Ciel was able to work it over the broad shoulders and unsheathe one arm, before rounding his back and taking the other. Sebastian clicked his tongue as Ciel worked, mocking him with a small smile. Ciel continued to work at it until he finally got the entire jacket free. It was incredibly heavy, and Ciel had trouble holding it up. A corner of the jacket brushed the floor, and Sebastian let out a small mock gasp.

Ciel turned in alarm to see what the gasp was for, before Sebastian crossed his arms and said, "You let a corner of my jacket touch the dirty floor. You're going to have to clean it immediately."

"That's ridiculous!" Ciel retorted, struggling to keep his grasp on the jacket, and looking for the criminal corner, "There's not even any dust on it!"

"Doesn't matter," Sebastian said, turning his back to him, "I expect it to be cleaned, dried, ironed, and folded properly by tomorrow morning. For sure my servant can do something as simple as that."

Ciel opened his mouth to respond, before he closed it and huffed again, heading towards the general direction of the laundry. Struggling to keep the heavy garment from touching the floor again, but also trying to keep his own garment from abandoning him completely, Ciel trudged the hallways, marveling at how accurately reconstructed the house was. Sebastian's work had always been inconceivably thorough, and he had recreated the Phantomhive mansion once before. Ciel had always held respect for Sebastian's high work ethic, and the mansion's latest establishment was the epitome of perfection. Ciel could even see the fades in the walls were pictures once resided, long since removed since his refusal to see his late parents' faces from behind the glass. Even then, he hated being reminded of what he had lost those years ago, but as he grasped ahold of the doorknob leading to what he was sure was the laundry quarters, he felt building within a couple other emotions then just resentment for what had happened prior to his situation.

Unfortunately for Ciel, his sense of direction had seemed to be lacking. Nonchalantly, he closed the pantry door and continued on his journey for the laundry room, pausing now and again to check the consecutive doors. About four failures later, Ciel finally stood within the correct room, and dropped the jacket on a barren table. Looking around him, he saw all sorts of materials used for properly washing and tending to clothing, but because of his upbringing, he didn't know how to properly use said tools. He picked up an odd tool that looked like a stool with a long pole affixed to it, and turned it about in his hand, wondering what it could possibly be used for.

Frustrated before even beginning, Ciel sat down on a small stool and considered what he was supposed to do. There were metal tubs stacked neatly in one corner, looking quite heavy, and there was a rather intimidating contraption that loomed in the corner; a black metal box, with a frame around it, supporting another box above the other with a pair of rollers within it. Two cranks were attached to these boxes, and upon inspection, the lower box sported a white embossing of "T.B" on it.

Three drying rails aligned the room as well, like skeletal trees affixed to the floor. He picked up a familiar tool; the iron, which he often glimpsed Sebastian using while waiting on him. The object was heavy, but very cool to the touch. Ciel wondered how exactly he was supposed to flatten the clothes with it, before he finally put it down and picked up a box of soap from under the table. He turned it over in his hand, reading the instructions along the side panel.

It sounded simple enough, and he went over to the metal bins, using what muscle he could muster to pull one of them free. It took a lot of work, but he was able to successfully drag the bin a couple meters before he went to read the rest of the box. He needed water; and he looked around for a source. Finding none, but finding a bucket, Ciel opened the back door leading into the courtyard, and looked about in the mist for the water pump.

Outside it had started to get dark, and he began to shiver. He rubbed his arms to drive off the cold, before he saw the black iron pump ahead. He dropped the pail under the nose, and grasped the lever. He had to pump it a couple times before any hope of water emerged, and it took quite a few more before he had a full bucket. It was very heavy for his frail arms to support, but he grasped it tightly and practically dragged it after him back towards the house.

Once inside, he closed the door behind him, and poured the water into the basin. His frown grew, when he realized that not just one bucket would cover the amount of water needed to clean the heavy jacket that rested on the table beside him. He sighed and grasped the pail handle again, and trudged off to attempt it a couple more times.

Exhausted, Ciel slumped next to the basin, breathing harshly. Two hours had already passed since he set out on his laundry assignment, and he was nowhere near finished. He was cranky, cold, his body hurt, and above all, he was extremely fatigued. His eye was already getting heavy, begging for sleep, but every time he considered abandoning his nearly impossible mission, that prickling feeling started up again and started crawling beneath his skin until he resumed work.

Irritated, he went over to the box and continued the steps. It called for quite a large quantity of soap, so he looked around for a measuring cup, and found none. Thinking he'd just eyeball it, he poured the substance into his hand, forming a substitute cup, and poured about seven.

Taking the garment from the table top with determination and resentment, Ciel plunged it deep into the water. He almost visualized drowning the owner of that jacket as he held it under the ice cold water, and it caused him a small flutter of joy, before he felt his fingers start to itch again. He withdrew his fingers and looked at them, puzzled. Looking over at the object he had recently picked up, he grasped ahold of it's neck and held it in both hands like a bizarre trident. Attacking the submerged garment, he stabbed at the water a couple times. Up and down, back and forth, clockwise, and counter clockwise, he stirred the water, causing the soap to congeal. He worked at it, unsure of how long the procedure was supposed to take. Despite having instructions, they were horribly vague, and he had no idea if he was even using the tool he grasped properly.

After what felt like forty five minutes worth of working the laundry, Ciel pulled his hands away from the staff, wincing almost immediately. He looked down to see that his fingers now bore large welts that pulsated as he blew on them. He tossed the object aside fiercely, before he reached in to grab ahold of the jacket. It weighed quadruple the amount it did before, and Ciel groaned as he strained to lift it from the tub. Spilling water everywhere, he looked around for where to put it next. He looked back at the machine with the rollers, and walked over to it, inspecting it all over for how to properly operate it. He decided to feed the garment through the rollers first, turning the crank with one hand as he guided it though with the other. Careful not to smash his own fingers in the roller, he complimented himself on his ingenuity before realizing that the jacket fell into the water catch below it. Groaning again with irritation, he fished around in the machine for it, and repeated the process, this time careful to guide it away from the cache.

The jacket was nowhere near dry, and it was wrinkled horribly, but it was clean. Ciel considered what to do next, and figured that the iron was probably the way to go. He spread the jacket out on the table again, and grabbed the heavy iron from it's resting place. He pressed it against the jacket, working at the wrinkles diligently. He was starting to get frustrated, however, when he noticed that he was not making a single dent in the liberating of the jacket from it's wrinkled state. He sat back, contemplating the problem and resting his cheek against the cold iron.

He remembered hearing the hiss of the iron back when he would be reading in his library and Sebastian was tending to a night garment he had requested that night while they occasionally discussed things; problems with upholding the honor of the family, the queen's assignments, how dinner tasted... Ciel was suddenly reminded that he was dangerously hungry as well, and he could feel his stomach growl at the thought of Sebastian's roasted cut of lamb with sprigs of fresh mint and rosemary, grilled shallots and sweet grapes. How he really longed for some grapes right then.

He shook his head and reminded himself of his situation; the hiss of the iron meant that the iron was hot, so that meant he needed to heat the iron to flatten the jacket. Which meant an excuse to use the kitchens. He grasped the handle of the iron and left the laundry room, navigating to the kitchens.

Working the ovens was an alien task altogether, but Ciel had come this far, he would continue the way he was supposed to. He found some wood piled in the corner, and stuffed it into the maw of the oven. He stuffed in a wad of tinder that he found in a silver box beside the logs, and found the long match sticks in the corner. He struck the match against the side of the oven.

He stared deeply into the flickering little flame. Flashes of memories involving that crimson red dancer; stealing all that he held dear from him. He tossed it into the dark belly of the oven and closed the compartment. He sat the iron on the grill, and stood back, hearing it hiss slightly as it heated.

Remembering the growl deep in his own belly, he looked around for something to satisfy his own needs. He didn't want to leave the iron unattended, and so scrounged around the kitchen itself for some sort of left over food, instead of venturing off to the pantry. He found a lone tomato in a basket near the window, and deeming it of sufficient quality, sunk his teeth into the scarlet flesh.

The first bite of his new life was the sweetest he had ever savored. The tomato's flavor bloomed on his tongue with such a tart and sweet taste that Ciel could almost feel tears forming at the corner of his eye. He quickly inhaled the treat, abandoning his noble manners for a brief moment to lick his fingers for the remnants of the flavor.

He leaned back against the kitchen table, satisfied and still dazed from the after affects of the crimson orb. He licked his lips several times before he remembered that he had left the iron on the oven. He stood up and grabbed the handle of the iron, before pulling away immediately, feeling the white hot burning sensation in his hand. He grabbed his wound tightly, and held it to his chest, whimpering to himself from the pain. The burn also stimulated another memory that made Ciel shake his head vigorously to drive it off.

He found a quilted mitten and slipped it over his unwounded hand, and lifted the iron off this time. Using both hands to support it away from his body, Ciel returned to the laundry room, this time convinced he had done his work properly. He pressed the iron down upon the garment, and it produced a cloud of steam and a loud hiss. He worked at it for a while, finding that it had become somewhat easier to reduce the wrinkles, but the garment itself refused to dry.

After a couple minutes working at it, Ciel realized that the fine fabric was smooth in some places, and course in others. He soon realized that he had been haphazardly burning the fabric, and now, despite all of his work, it was ruined.

He got angry and threw the jacket down on the table, crossing the threshold to his stool. He sat down, drumming his fingers against his lips in thought as he wheeled through what to do. The fine jacket was ruined. The floor was a mess, he had left the kitchen in disarray, he had left the oven's fire going, and he was now responsible for failing to follow Sebastian's command.

Panic giving way to logic, he simply shrugged it off and got up, touching the unfortunate jacket gingerly. His first attempt had made it so far, he figured it a shame that he'd give up now. He grabbed the iron again and continued his work, despite the smell of burning fabric as he slid the iron across it's surface.

He held the jacket aloft from the table's surface, seeing not a single wrinkle. Though it was still a minor bit damp, and the rough patches could still be felt, he figured that no one would be the wiser. He went to one of the skeletal trees and, with use of the stool, hung it from the top branch, careful not to wrinkle it. He stood back and contemplated it, proud of his work despite it's flaws, and turned to leave, determined to finally get the rest he longed for.

A black clad figure standing in the doorway had other plans.

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And that's four! I'm sorry it was so long, but it was somewhat fun to write. Thank you all for your reviews and for reading my fiction! Next chapter coming soon!

((I'm sorry if my portrayal of the characters is not entirely accurate... I hope that my story is at least somewhat enjoyable for you, as it is quite enjoyable to write! This was somewhat more of a quirky chapter, since I had spent about three of them underlining a lot of dark macabre situations. I always wondered how would the characters perform in a role reversal, since Ciel was of noble birth and wouldn't associate himself with menial tasks [like in Episode 16 when he couldn't tie his shoes!], and Sebastian, I figure with his already double-edged humor that he'd throw a lot of it back at Ciel given the opportunity. Ciel also struck me as quite an angst ridden character, and often enough very cold. Despite a few heartwarming situations, he would immediately recede back to his hate-state and go off brooding or believing things were a waste of time. I do realize though, that Ciel has some good qualities, which is why he's continuing on in my series, even if he might/might not appear in the second series of Kuroshitsuji. Here's to hoping!))


	5. Chapter 5: Ver à Soie

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering;_ Ver à Soie _means _Silkworm_ in French.

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**-5-**

**Ver à Soie**

Ciel turned around, and jumped nearly ten feet out of his skin as he saw the dark figure leaning nonchalantly against the door frame to the laundry quarters. His hand flew to his chest for a moment, attempting to tame his rapidly beating heart while regaining his lost breath.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Ciel managed to huff, as the figure smiled and lifted himself from the doorway, walking towards him with his arms crossed.

Sebastian surveyed the condition of the laundry room; sighing from the amount of mess left over from Ciel's laundry crusade. The box of soap had been overturned on the table, leaking the precious substance all over the wet floor. The dollie had been tossed unceremoniously against the wall, and lay on it's side, still soaked from use. The mangler had been left full of water, and the hot iron lay on it's side on the wooden table. He touched his temple in brief annoyance, sighing heavily before chuckling to himself. His young master, the Earl of Phantomhive, cleaning clothes. The very idea had tickled him earlier when he gave the order, but seeing it in fruition caused him so much delight that he had to stifle his reaction to brief light laughter.

"What's so funny?" Ciel frowned sourly, looking behind him at his workplace and seeing it as a battlefield, celebrating his victory over the menacing task of cleaning the jacket. He felt proud, despite it's condition, that he had performed the act to the best of his ability, alone and without prior instruction. Every spill was a badge of accomplishment.

Sebastian didn't share his insight. The quiet laughter had ceased almost immediately, and instead of answering Ciel's question, he crossed the room in a few strides, fingers taking up a sleeve of the ruined jacket hanging from the drying rack. Ciel bit his lip, backing up a little towards the door. His denial that Sebastian wouldn't notice started breaking down, as the reality of the situation began to weigh on him. Sebastian would notice; of course he would notice! Ciel had failed to comply with a direct order, and now the elegant jacket was ruined beyond repair.

"Oh my," Sebastian exclaimed, holding up one unfortunate sleeve that bore a long streak of burned fabric, "You destroyed my favorite jacket."

"Well," Ciel tried to save face. He was new at this whole business, and Sebastian new that all too well. He figured that Sebastian should not have expected less of him, and if anything, complimented his attempt in some form, "What do you expect? I've never washed things myself. You didn't show me how to, either."

"I wasn't given instruction on how to do it properly," Sebastian reposed, turning his head slightly to look at Ciel as his hand slowly reached for the door latch, "yet I had enough sense to look up what I had to do from one of the many books in your library."

Ciel flushed, insulted by Sebastian's words, and cursing himself for not thinking about consulting a proper text first. His fingers fumbled for the metal handle as he stared off with the demon at the far wall, and finding it almost an impossible task.

"Stay where you are," Sebastian commanded. Little pin pricks started creeping up Ciel's fingers, each one of them hot. He drew his hand away from the door and held his hand to his chest, rubbing it gingerly as to ward off the irritation.

"Are you getting some sick enjoyment from this?" Ciel waved his hand briefly, attempting to shake the last of the prickling feeling off. A dark shadow fell over his hand, and he turned his gaze up to a face that was now only inches from his own. Sebastian's fingers wrapped themselves around Ciel's, and he blew softly on his fingertips.

"Seeing your expression is quite amusing, yes," Sebastian smiled, "but even more amusing... is this."

He rotated Ciel's hand so that the young boy could see what he meant. Ciel's eye widened as he saw a small trickle of blood flow from a broken blister on his hand. Several other angry and pulsating red welts dotted his delicate fingers, and he whimpered softly upon acknowledging their existence. His self pity immediately shifted into extreme resentment of the hand that held the sight before him, and he quickly wrenched his poor hand free of Sebastian's grasp.

Sebastian chuckled, and tilted his head subtly, tapping his chin in thought as he considered more of the boy standing before him, glaring darkly as he cradled his wounded hands to his chest. He reached out again, taking Ciel's chin into his grasp. Ciel immediately tried to break away from him, but Sebastian caught his shoulder and brought him a step closer. Despite Ciel's obvious dislike for the contact, he turned Ciel's face left and right, tilting it at angles for a brief moment.

"I see..." he said simply, releasing Ciel as suddenly as he had caught him.

Confused, but cautious, Ciel chanced asking, "What?"

"You ate something. It shows," Sebastian smiled, "I'm assuming you devoured something without asking of course..."

"You seriously going to be that petty?" Ciel said, not amused by the way this was going.

"Oh, am I petty?" Sebastian passed by him, placing his hand on the door handle, "In that case, my little thief, you will clean all of this mess, and until it's absolutely spotless, you will not be sleeping tonight."

Ciel opened his mouth angrily to respond a delightful array of insults, before Sebastian brought a slender finger to his lips, "No complaints. Do it."

As quickly as he came, he was gone. Ciel was left in the dripping laundry room, alone, tired, soaking wet, and cold. Without a proper outlet to take out his frustration, Ciel decided to avenge his sanity on the laundry room floor. Viciously retrieving a fluffy individual from a stack of neatly folded towels, he dropped to his knees and began to scrub at the floor with all his might. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the towel tightly and put every ounce of his anger and resentment into every push and pull. The towel became useless after three or four pushes, and he threw it into an empty metal bin with a war shout, before getting up and tearing another towel down to his level from the table top. A cascade of towels fell around his feet as he continued to scrub at the floor, using up a new towel every three minutes.

Eventually, he ran out of absorbent materials, and looked up at the jet black coat that hung across the room, taunting him as if Sebastian was wearing it and watching his futile work. He got up from the floor, stomped across the room, and tore it down, throwing it onto the floor with such furiousity that Ciel didn't mind the backlash of one of the arms during the action.

He knelt down quickly and grabbed two fistfuls of the burnt material in his hands, and pounded it into the floor, "Oh my! I've let the coat touch the floor!"

Ciel pushed at the coat, feeling it tear at his wounded hands in defense, but that did not stop his rampage, "Must not let Sebastian's coat touch the FLOOR! I'll have to clean the COAT immediately if it touches the FLOOR!"

"I find it very hard to believe," Ciel's head whipped around to see Sebastian standing in the doorway again, smiling wide. Sebastian was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing from seeing the beautiful sight; Ciel's face twisted into such a pained, frustrated and delirious expression, breathing harshly on the floor with his hair matted around his face like a madman, " that you would find such work so much to your liking."

"I hate you!" Ciel spat, whipping the only weapon he had, a very matted and soaking wet jacket, at Sebastian. It fell short from reaching Sebastian's legs, and the demon's smile only grew. He laughed quietly behind his hand as Ciel continued, "I'm tired, I'm cold, I don't have any clothes, I am bleeding, and you keep mocking me! Why couldn't you just eat me and let me go on without knowing this torture?"

"Torture?" Sebastian's smile faded at the edges, before he walked forward, his shadow now towering over Ciel's slender form, "This is laundry. This is nothing compared to what else is in store for you. You should be kissing the hem of my pant leg that this is my first task for you. Believe me, press me further, and I will show you a Hell that will make you pray for another laundry day."

"Threatening me, what a cowardly person," Ciel responded, seeing Sebastian's eyebrow twitch, "Admit it, you can't handle ordering around the true master of this house. Just like you couldn't handle finishing me."

Ciel suddenly felt a flare up in his chest, and he doubled over, clutching at the accursed spot. Sebastian just stared at him darkly, watching him quiver in pain. After a few moments, he closed his eyes and exhaled, reaching down and taking Ciel's hand from his chest. Despite his pain, the boy tried to remove his hand from Sebastian's grasp, but he maintained such a firm grip that it was impossible.

Wordlessly, Sebastian pulled Ciel along behind him, abandoning the disheveled laundry quarters. Ciel had a little trouble keeping up with the taller man's gait, and his occasional struggle to free his trapped bloody hand was doing nothing to impede the demon's journey. The crossed the main hall entry, up the stairwell, down the west wing hallway, and stopped at the bathroom. Sebastian wrenched open the door, and nearly tossed Ciel inside. Regaining his balance from the disorienting trek, Ciel looked around and up at Sebastian for answers, and found none in the verbal sense. Sebastian simply crossed the room and grabbed a silver box from one of the sink-side table drawers. He dropped it into Ciel's hands, and passed by him, shutting the door behind him, leaving as quickly as he came yet again.

Ciel blinked for a few moments, considering what had happened. A few drops of blood on one of his exposed white legs woke him back up to reality, and he pried the box open, curious, and peered inside at it's contents. It was a first aid kit, complete with bandages and proper medicines for treating scrapes and cuts. He once again felt at a loss for how to go about properly tending his own wounds. He sat down on a vanity chair, placing the box on the table surface and removing the medical implements one by one, reading the descriptions on their labels as he did so. He settled for some alcohol, using a small cloth to pour a dose of the clear liquid to apply it to the many wounds on his hands. Satisfied with the amount, he folded it into a small square and gently brushed it against his palm.

He hissed, feeling the flare up of the alcohol on his blisters, and shook his hands violently, trying to quiet the pain with the air. Attempting to ignore the horrible stinging sensation, he reached for a bandage, using one hand to hold down one end, before wrapping the rest around with a couple rotations of his wrist. He reached down and used his teeth to pull the bandage taught, and found a small metal clasp to secure it down. He had to adjust the tightness several times before he felt somewhat comfortable, and repeated the process for the opposite hand.

Feeling somewhat like a leper, he flexed his poor hands timidly, which was a restricted action due to the amount of bandages he had consumed. He grimaced, thinking that he could never recall a time where Sebastian had to wrap his hands this much for such a simple wound. He shrugged, deeming it appropriate, and began to archive the medicines and objects back into the kit neatly.

It almost felt like a meditation, as he placed each bottle and bandage roll back into the box. He thought back on all the events he had ever sustained multiple wounds. There were a couple times, but those where the result from his business as the Queen's Watchdog.

He fell still for a moment, feeling the weight of that title as it rested down on his shoulders. What had become of that title, now that he was 'dead'? Would it be passed on like an inheritance to some other noble, who would most likely wear it like a hat and not live up to it's expectations? Or would it just die with him, the last Phantomhive heir?

Thinking back on his family name, his index and thumb fingers began to rub the empty thumb of the opposite hand. His ring was gone, _his_ ring. He felt a deep sadness as his fingers caressed that empty trail, and he dropped his hands into his lap, letting his head hang.

Slowly, his eye fluttered closed, and he fell into a deep sleep.

† † † †

His hand swayed beneath him as he felt himself being carried, a wall of black clad torso pressed against his waking form. His eye stayed half lidded, as he turned his head slightly to see where he was being taken; but the hall was too dark to really see anything. Still half asleep, he returned to resting his head against the warm wall, breathing in a familiar scent that held in so many subtle flavors; breakfast tea as the curtains were drawn, fresh pressed linen, a crisp breeze containing the signature of fresh flowers in bloom and cut grass... so many scents that Ciel could feel the gentle hand of sleep continue to caress the side of his face as the subtle memories danced through his head.

Sebastian glanced down at him as he traversed the darken hallway. Ciel's sleeping form was so calm and peaceful compared to the many faces he had witnessed that day. He remembered opening the door to the bathroom, wondering what exactly had kept the boy from responding, only to find him crumpled on the floor, tangled in the only garment he possessed and sleeping so soundly that he didn't respond as Sebastian lifted him from the floor and into his arms. He had paused as he inspected Ciel's handiwork on his wounds, shaking his head lightly in light humor before exiting the bathroom and heading towards a better sleeping quarters.

Ciel's warm breath against his chest seemed to spark a few memories in the demon's mind as well; escorting him home after rescuing him from the devious Italian rat and his departed mafia, protecting him from the wicked and distorted angel...

It was quite a ridiculous position; the boy complaining so much over such a little task, whilst he had to perform the impossible on a mere whim. So the boy suffered minor blisters from while working, he had to withstand a fierce whipping from within the walls of London prison. He had to wrap his hands himself, while Sebastian had to withstand the intense pain of re-growing an entire limb on his own. The more he reflected, the less he pitied the sleeping doll in his grasp.

Until he felt a small shift within his grasp, and saw Ciel sleepily turn his head, look around for a moment, and then return to his dreamland. Sebastian couldn't help but smile softly, and continue onwards.

† † † †

A light fluffiness against his cheek greeted him in the morning, as Ciel's eye fluttered open. Seeing only white, he wanted, with every fiber of his being, to wake up in his room. He lay staring at that white surface, believing that it was one of his many goose down pillows, and that the sheets tangled about his legs were his thousand count cashmere sheets. He waited for that familiar sound of china tinkling against each other as a cup was being lifted for the inevitable pour of steaming hot Earl Grey with three lumps of sugar. He prayed that there would be pear and almond tart, already sliced and prepared, sitting only a few feet from the foot of his bed.

A single ray of light flitted over his face through a crack in the closed shutter, and acknowledging it's existence caused Ciel to squint from the brightness, and reluctantly rise from his pillow to a sitting position.

What he did receive, was not a pear and almond tart. There was no steaming tea in a bone china cup, and there was no four poster bed with incredibly soft sheets and pillows.

It was a room; four corners and a simple wooden bed. A night stand, a small mirror in a wooden frame, a simple table and chair, a wooden cabinet, and a single candlestick were the only other decorations of the room. The sheets were still soft, but of less quality than what he was accustomed to, and the pillow wasn't his shaved goose down; more like duck, with the quills still intact so that they poked out through the corners of the pillow case. Ciel sighed in disappointment, hugging his knees to his chest. Once again, his 'clothes' were missing, but he didn't care. The room confirmed that yesterday was not a dream, and that everything that had come to pass was as real as the massive bandages wrapped around his aching hands.

He didn't feel like leaving the room. He stared off into nothingness for a while, thinking over his new life. His thought process was interrupted by a quick rap on the door. Sebastian entered, no tea stand nor fresh clothes in his arms. Instead, he carried a pair of black scissors.

Ciel looked at him darkly, drawing the sheets about him as if they could form a protective barrier over his body. Sebastian chuckled, snipping the air with the scissors playfully, "You slept in."

"It can't be later than seven," Ciel said, judging the time by the position of the light through the shutters.

"Servants should be awake at four, to get any sort of work done," Sebastian tilted his head, punctuating his gleeful sentence with another snip of the scissors.

"Four?!" Ciel whined with disbelief, before his eyes went to the rather menacing looking shears, "What are those for?"

"As I said yesterday, you look absolutely disgusting," Sebastian walked over to the bedside as he spoke, "A servant of my household must look somewhat presentable. I can't have you hobbling throughout the mansion looking like a corpse, you'll offend my guests."

Ciel's eyes continued to follow the scissors, as Sebastian concluded, "Cut your hair."

Ciel snatched the scissors before Sebastian could offer them. He abandoned the bed, shivering as his toes touched the cold floorboards upon his exit. He went over to the mirror, seeing the horrible stranger once again, only this time, without the episode of shock and revelation. He considered the current state of his hair, and found that he had no clue of how and where to begin. Unlike his previous two crusades, cutting his hair was something that affected him, and was permanent. He could see, in the space allowed in the mirror, the reflection of Sebastian taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, waiting patiently as if for a show.

He timidly raised the black metal shears to his face, feeling the coldness of them as they lightly skimmed the front of his cheek as he judged just exactly how to cut a proper style. Using two fingers to hold out a clump of his hair, Ciel opened the shears wide, closing one eye, and brought them closed.

Whitish silver cords fell to the floor, falling into little heaps. Ciel opened his eye and released the mutilated lock, only to see it fall haphazardly on his face; butchered.

He turned around to see Sebastian laughing behind his hand again, heat flaring up in his face as he felt embarrassment rising from his already failing attempt to groom himself. He turned around again, grabbing another fistful of his hair, prepared to close the shears down upon this fated cluster as well, before a pale hand grasped the shears and pulled them away, out of his grasp. Ciel turned to give a rather cold glare at Sebastian as he held the scissors out of his reach.

"Enough," Sebastian said, before Ciel could make a grab for the utensil again, "I'll consider this like grooming a pet. I can not allow you to butcher yourself further. Take a seat, now."

Ciel grasped the wooden chair by the back and dragged it after him towards the mirror. He sat down upon it, sitting up straight as the familiar caress of Sebastian's hand along his scalp greeted him. Though he felt an initial feeling of disgust as that hand continued to course through his hair, he felt a deep ping of nostalgia again, looking at his reflection and seeing an almost painful sight.

Sebastian ran his fingers through the boy's hair, feeling it's silken texture. He smiled gently to himself as he considered what exactly to do with the styling. Ciel's identity had to remain anonymous, he concluded, and so a few minor alterations where all he required. Like an artist, Sebastian's hands worked at Ciel's hair, cutting it with the metal shears and combing it with his fingertips, watching the white ribbons drift to the floor. He also noticed that in just one night, Ciel's form was starting to gravitate back to a fuller and healthier condition. Still a delicate porcelain white, but no longer showing the varicose veins that once ran over his limbs like risen roots. He continued to groom his servant, deciding to entertain other pressing thoughts that came to mind than Ciel's condition; like what game he had in store next for his small pet.

Ciel closed his eye, letting the feeling of Sebastian's fingers and the occasional snipping of the scissors lull him into a dreamlike state. He rested his head back, letting his shoulders slump slightly in the chair as he pictured what he wished was in the mirror; he was in his favorite suit, letting Sebastian cut his hair so that he would look presentable for the business associate that was to arrive that morning to discuss details involving the production of his toy company.

His vision was interrupted by Sebastian tousling his hair quickly, letting the final remnants of hair fall free, with a declaration of, "You're finished."

Ciel looked in the mirror at a boy who was still a stranger to him, but bore more of a regal air than the horrendous creature before. He looked handsome, sure enough, and his hair bore somewhat of a similarity to his prior arrangement, only this time longer and shorter in some places than before. In a way, he entertained the thought that he slightly resembled Sebastian. The more he tilted his head in inspection of his new styling, the more his gaze was caught by his grotesque affliction.

"May I have an eye patch?" Ciel turned to look up at Sebastian, who was picking the hairs from the shears, deep in thought. The demon looked up for a moment from his little novelty, and shook his head lightly.

"I figure that in your position it doesn't matter," Sebastian smiled, "So no, you will leave it uncovered."

"Stupid," Ciel clicked his tongue in distaste, irritated that Sebastian had actually ordered him to leave it bare, "and you were worried I'd offend your so called guests."

"Perhaps they'll take pity on you and rescue you from the beast you so forcibly have to live with," Sebastian teased, snipping the scissors inches in front of Ciel's nose and causing him to shout after him as he left for the door, "Of course, it doesn't really matter if they do, since there's nowhere for you to go that I won't find you."

Ciel glared after him coldly, rising up from the chair and feeling immediately itchy from all the stray hairs stuck to his body. With a hot steaming river of sarcasm, Ciel used the corner of his bed sheets to towel himself off, "And I suppose I'm to be a naked butler then?"

"Clothes are in the cabinet," Sebastian said, closing the door behind him. Ciel, frustrated yet again, resorted to sticking out his tongue at the closed door before dropping the sheet and opening the cabinet door. Only three outfits were hung up for his choosing: a white suit with swallow tails, paired with a black collared shirt and white ribbon, a black uniform with white buttons, tie, and trim, a deep blue vest, and a black night gown. He selected the black suit, and laid it out in sections on the bed.

First was the undergarments. He pulled the pants up and synched them easily, tying them taught and tucking the tie inside the hem. He pulled the undershirt over his head, bringing it down and tucking it within the pants. _Simple enough_, he thought to himself. Next were the pants; he followed the same procedure as before, but fumbled clumsily at the small buttons. After about five minutes of the tedious task, Ciel drew a breath of victory. He had dressed himself before, but the clothes then seemed somewhat simpler than these. He pulled the black shirt over his head and groaned aloud as he had to work at a few of the buttons again, until the collar hugged his neck respectively. He pulled the blue vest over his head as well, avoiding buttoning altogether, to his relief. He took the tie into his hand, and tried to put it on properly. After what felt like forty failures, the tie had been abandoned to the cabinet. Ciel drew the black jacket on and fluffed it out so that it settled neatly on his small shoulders, and buttoned the four ornate white buttons.

He pulled the large single drawer of the cabinet, and found a two pairs of solid black shoes; both with laces.

Ciel sighed in disbelief, muttering, "You've got some sick humor, demon," before he pulled out a pair of socks, slipped them over his legs and secured them properly with the garters. Afterwards, he pulled on one pair of shoes. He fumbled with the idea of a bow for a couple minutes before he resorted to tying them in tight knot and stuffing the access into the shoe from the side. It was uncomfortable, but he didn't plan on wasting another moment on battling the awful fiends.

Going over to the mirror, he surveyed his condition. Apart from his eye, he looked acceptable. He attempted to cover the stitches with some of his bangs, but the natural sway of his hair parted enough to show the worst of the defect.

Suddenly, he heard a loud ringing of a bell, and noticed for the first time a rack of bells. He recalled such a system before, and remembered pulling the respective cord to summon help from the many rooms of the house. Unfortunately, he had no clue from what room the bell was being activated from; the bells were too high up for him to read the labels. Scoffing with irritation, Ciel straightened his jacket one last time before grasping the door handle and tearing it open, ready to commence his search.

---------

Chapter 5!

Again, another long chapter, thank you all for your wonderful reviews!


	6. Chapter 6: Chenille

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _Chenille_ means _Caterpillar_ in French.

----

**-6-**

**Chenille**

Ciel was exhausted. He had trekked the entire west wing, the main hall, two side corridors, and seven stairwells (two repeatedly), all the while opening door after door, looking for the source of the bell's ringing with no luck. He had finally decided to sit on the main entry's massive stairwell, propping his head up with his hands as his elbows rested on his kneecaps. He figured eventually Sebastian would get fed up and find him, and he would give him a piece of his mind. He played with a button on his sleeve absently, thinking up a good scolding for the demon for this stupid game of hide and seek. Whatever it was that he wanted, he was satisfied that he wasn't going to get it the second he wanted it. Had he had proper sense to move the bell system down to Ciel's eye level, he would probably receive Ciel's service in a punctual manner. It served him right.

He sighed, seeing the bandages peek out from beneath the black cuff of his jacket. Pulling the cuff to cover his embarrassment, he huffed heavily and leaned back against the stairs, feeling the cold ridges against his spine. He stared up a the ornately arranged ceiling. Despite his long rest, he still felt fatigued, and his body continued to feel heavy. He figured it was probably the clothes, and briefly wondered about where exactly his previous adornments had disappeared to.

His thought process was immediately interrupted by a loud crash that sounded inches from his face. He sat bolt upright and looked around him, alarmed, for the source of the noise. He looked up behind him, and saw a very irritated Sebastian, arm raised from throwing a now obliterated vase.

"What was that for?!" Ciel shouted, catching his breath from the shock, and shifting his gaze from the shards of the Ming vase scattering every inch of the staircase, to the angry demon looming over him.

"I called you," Sebastian said, taking a step down the stairs, "And I find you daydreaming?"

"Well," Ciel laid back arrogantly, folding his arms behind his head to mimic a pillow, "it's your fault for placing the bells so high up that only a giant like you can read the labels. I looked around the house, and I couldn't find you. But, it seems like you can't play the waiting game like I can."

Sebastian's form eclipsed the overhead lights of the chandeliers, and Ciel felt an inkling of dread as the expression Sebastian bore was not his usual bemused smile, but rather a very icy leer. He shrunk back against the floor, only to feel the firm grasp of Sebastian's hand clamp down on Ciel's jacket and haul him up from the floor like a baby kitten. Despite Ciel's weight, Sebastian made him look like he weighed less than a pillow as he held him a couple inches off the stairs. Ciel managed to look down at the height, and felt like gravity was pawing at his ankles like the hands of Hell, as he grasped Sebastian's arm with his slender fingers, attempting to support himself should the demon actually drop him.

"Are you crazy?!" Ciel managed to shout at him, before noticing Sebastian lift one eyebrow in amusement, as if thinking it a challenge. He felt Sebastian's arm extend out to the fullest distance, dangling him over the now fearsome staircase.

"Alright, alright!" Ciel shouted, shutting his eye as if awaiting the inevitable fall that would surely break all the bones in his body, "Just don't drop me!"

Light snickering caused Ciel to open his eye again, and he saw the familiar smirk replace Sebastian's darkened glare, as the demon playfully retracted his arm, using one hand to softly pet Ciel's head, "I think I win this time."

Ciel greatly considered turning his head to bite that hand as hard as he could, but decided that in his current position, it would be a fairly idiotic thing to do. Instead he dealt out the coldest arctic glare he could muster, communicating wordlessly that he was horribly vexed and to never do such a thing again.

Sebastian smiled, taking in that glare with a tickle of amusement, before he placed Ciel back onto his feet on solid ground. He then surveyed the damage his conditioning had cost, and said, "Clean this staircase, and all the other staircases in the house while you're at it. Since you refused to show on time, I was forced to prepare my own breakfast, so in return, you will forgo breakfast for today."

Ciel opened his mouth to complain, but Sebastian continued, cutting his retort off before it could even begin, "I've prepared a schedule for you for today. All of the articles must be completed on time and in full, or you will be severely punished."

He retrieved from his breast pocket a small square of folded paper, which he handed to Ciel. Ciel's eye roved over the small scribbles, widening at the lengthiness and somewhat endlessness of the chores and their scheduled start and completion times.

His voice was merely a squeak of disbelief as he finished the list, "You've got to be kidding."

"Oh, I'm serious," Sebastian smiled, "And this is just the beginning. I thought I'd take it easy on you, since you are merely a fledgeling, but I do expect all of these things to be done and done correctly. I will be inspecting the quality of your work, and if I'm not satisfied, you will perform the task again from square one."

Ciel's gaze darted back and forth with a mixture of apprehension and frustration at the demon and his hellish schedule. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but couldn't find the right words to communicate how completely absurd the list was. Not to mention that the tasks were compiled into very short time frames, and for someone entirely new to them with no prior instruction, Ciel could not fathom any mortal ever performing all the tasks on the list, let alone by a specific time.

A silver object dangled in front of his face as he stared down at the page, and Ciel accepted it, holding the silver pocket watch in his hand and feeling it's gentle coolness against his palm, despite the bandages. He flicked it open, and saw the black hands calculating the time tick quietly, showing that it was currently three quarters after ten.

Sebastian turned to abandon Ciel again, before he heard Ciel whisper, "I really do hate you."

"Good," Sebastian said, not bothering to turn around, "That makes it easier."

Ciel looked up at the retreating back, feeling his teeth clench with the restraint to run up and start punching at that oblique wall. He could almost feel a tear form in the corner of his eye as he stared forlornly at the paper in his hand, doomed before he even began. Adding the cleaning of the many stairwells would completely throw off the entire schedule, since he was already running late on over three tasks. He glanced down at the shards of the once gorgeous vase, and reached down to pick up one fairly large segment. The rich blue glaze in the shape of a Chinese butterfly on white pottery sadly stared up at him, shattered due to his lackadaisical and childish actions. He pocketed it, and set off downstairs to locate the broom closet.

He remembered coming across it while inspecting the rooms for Sebastian earlier, and found the room quite easily this time. Pulling out a dustpan, waste basket, and a broom, he made his way back to the main hall. He started from the top level, stepping down backwards after sweeping all of the debris down from each individual pier, until all of the stairs were devoid of rubbish, and the floor was littered with shattered vase and grey dust. He pulled the waste bin close and tried to sweep the shards into the pan, though it was more difficult than it looked. Finding that he could not get the fine line of dust off the floor, he resorted to sweeping it against the corner of the bottom stair, hidden in the shadow. He repeated the process for the other staircases throughout the house, dragging the waste basket behind him as he went.

The exploration of the house continued to marvel Ciel, seeing just how intricately and accurately Sebastian's handiwork had replicated the old Phantomhive mansion. He silently ran his hand along one of the banisters belonging to a lonely stairwell in the east wing, feeling the gentle coldness. He recalled, before he had ever dreamed of the grim underworld and endured all the Hell of the world, a time when he was very small, and had attempted to slide down the banister away from the servants' and his parents' overprotective gazes. He had slid down the banister, feeling the rush of the velocity for a brief second before toppling off of it and landing on his back at the bottom of the stairwell. He remembered sitting up and feeling the wicked bruise that had formed on his little elbow, and crying, alone, hoping that someone would hear him and come to his aid, but nobody came to his rescue. It was only after he had managed to get up and return to the busy hallways of the mansion did he receive any sympathy for his minor affliction.

Those days were dead and gone, Ciel knew, but he thought of that moment and how it foreshadowed his present predicament; he had chosen to slide down the bannister, and his foolishness had led to him being hurt and alone at the bottom of the stairs. Waiting for someone to take sympathy on him and mount a rescue was not going to happen anytime soon, and so he would have to care solely for himself.

He had made the deal with the demon, and so he had to accept the consequences, despite the cruel irony of the situation. If it meant that he'd have to work that hellish schedule every day, so be it.

† † † †

Ciel lay on his bed, breathing heavily as he stared at the ceiling blankly. The list had taken hours to complete; cleaning several rooms, the kitchen, the laundry quarters, the bathrooms, all in their entirety; and because he was behind schedule, he continued to miss the vital meal preparation times, which resulted in Sebastian restricting him from his own meals. Despite the tardiness, he thought that he had done his tasks well, but when Sebastian continued to make unscheduled demands, Ciel found himself playing a never ending game of hide and seek for the most insignificant things. It was like a cruel, twisted game of Memory, as Sebastian ordered to find a ledger for him, bring him tea (which had been an absolute failure beyond all measure), bring him a cane, put back the cane, start a fire in the fireplace, dust around the room, fetch the cane again, put the incorrect cane back and fetch the right one, bring him a book, bring him a new ink well...

If that wasn't enough, come inspection time, Sebastian viciously picked his efforts apart piece by piece, making everything Ciel worked so hard to complete look like he just pushed the dirt about the room. Despite the amount of time Ciel had sacrificed, Sebastian demanded that he restart all over from scratch. Now, it was a waiting game of when Sebastian would finish judging his work a second time.

The wraps around his hands had been refreshed, but now they were thicker than before, and the stinging sensation made Ciel hold his hands out like a praying mantis as he lay still on the bed.

The door finally swung open, and Ciel dropped his arms to his sides to look sideways at Sebastian's silhouette, "Well?"

"Do it again," Sebastian said.

"Are you barking mad?" Ciel sat up, seething, "I just worked my hands to the bloody bone for you, TWICE, and you say it's still no good?"

"I said, do it again," Sebastian's voice had become humorless, and the cold edge felt like it could cut Ciel in two should he open his mouth to argue again. Despite his better instincts, his natural arrogance encouraged a muttering of something inaudible under his breath. Sebastian paused at the doorway, and turned to look at him, "What was that?"

"No," Ciel said flatly, still on the bed and gripping the sheets on either side like forming a foundation.

"No?" Sebastian took one step in his direction, "You dare defy my commands?"

"I said I don't want to!" Ciel shouted, throwing the pocket watch at Sebastian, who caught it effortlessly between two fingers, the chain whipping around his wrist non-threateningly.

Sebastian stared at the boy silently for a few moments, before taking a few more steps towards him. Ciel made no effort to move away; he only glared at him defiantly with his one azure eye, as if he could bore a hole in his head with enough focus. Sebastian effortlessly broke through the deadly gaze and brought his hand down upon Ciel's face.

He saw a flash of light; white and hot, as he fell back on the bed. He lay there stunned for a moment, before he shockingly brought two shaking fingers to his abused cheek. A blossom of crimson pain unfurled itself over the left side of his face, stretching it's petals under his eye and down his chin. He cringed, inhaling sharply as he cradled his poor face, shoulders shaking from the everlasting feel of where Sebastian's fingers had dealt the mind spinning blow. He had been beaten before; the worst being the Italian rat, but that was different. That stung briefly, and converted to a dull pain that Ciel could withstand. Sebastian's connection had a signature sting that continued anew with a horrible pulsing that persisted, despite the amount of pressure Ciel applied with his own timid fingertips.

He continued to lay deathly still on the bed, holding his face and staring off into the corner; unresponsive as Sebastian took Ciel's small wrist into his hand and rotated his hand to clasp the pocket watch again, closing the slender white fingers over it's cold surface. He looped the thin chain about the fragile wrist, before he let it fall back onto the bed. He leaned down so his lips nearly touched Ciel's ear.

"Do it again," Sebastian whispered, before he stood up again and blew out the candle, abandoning Ciel to the darkness and pain.

Ciel felt like he could lay there for eternity; the pain seemed to eventually convert to a warmth not unlike a sweet caress against his cheek. He slowly drew his hand back to his pulsating wound, pressing the cold steel of the pocket watch in his hand. The metal was comforting, and it slowly tamed the burning sensation. It was only after a few moments of absence, that Ciel began to notice a rust-like taste on his tongue. He sat up, still cradling his cheek in his hand, and coughed. A small ball of phlegm and blood rested in his palm, much to Ciel's disgust. He took out a handkerchief that he had stuffed in one of his pockets and wiped his hand clean. He drew his knees to his chest, resting his his forehead against them as he closed his eyes and felt the heaviness of reality once again bare down on him.

He wanted to remain there; his sanity encased by his fortress of his legs and spine, keeping the vicious world out while he remained alone in the darkness and reconstructed himself. Sebastian had never turned on him in such a manner. He had watched the elegant assassin fall numerous enemies, a deadly dance that Ciel took in with breathtaking relish and awe, but he never felt the ounce of pain his opposition had to withstand. The tiny fraction dealt upon Ciel's face continued to sting brilliantly, and he gritted his teeth to bite back the urge to cry. His personal honor would not be sacrificed to his former help. His so called _Master_ had become no different from that vulgar Italian; he would not show the genuine affect that Sebastian's discipline had on him, despite the enormous amount of pain in that stretched over his face like a hot iron mask.

His personal encouragement was stopped short by a sudden loud ringing of a bell, and Ciel got up from the bed, leaving for the hallway again to play Hide and Seek again.

† † † †

Sebastian looked at his hand while he sat in the dimly lit study. It held no memory of punishing his charge; no tingling sensation from the contact, no heat from the brush of the skin. It didn't stop Sebastian from remembering the scene himself. He considered himself justified; the insolent pup had to be trained properly.

Ciel had been reared a noble from birth, and his position as the Queen's Watchdog and as the head of the Phantomhive family from such a young age had given him a stain of defiance, hubris, and haughty arrogance that would have to be rubbed out. He did not expect the boy to be easy; he knew that it would take a lot of training to break Ciel's will and make him compliant. Perhaps it was best; the more the boy defied him, the more he began to feel the urge to strike him down. The weight on his hands was indeed starting to lift, little by little, the more his memory drifted to that defiant glare from that one crystal blue eye. However, the lingering feeling that remained seemed to cause his arm to ache. He flexed his fingers, before he looked at the door. He had rung for the boy more than 20 minutes ago. A small portion of his being felt compelled to search for him again, and an even smaller, slightly annoying inkling in the back of his head felt a small glimmer of concern. His fingertips twitched slightly as he considered what exactly could be taking his servant so long to report, before he heard a familiar set of footsteps outside, and the sound of the metal latch giving way to a small hand on the other side of the door.

Ciel pushed the door open, and slowly entered the study, standing by the door and no closer. His arms were behind his back, and his good eye was half lidded as he addressed his master, "What is it?"

Sebastian considered the tone of Ciel's voice; it still carried that troublesome line of defiance, and the disrespect was starting to irk him. He also noticed something vital was missing from that sentence; something that he knew would get under the boy's skin and bite him like a million ants to say. He smiled slightly from the thought, and decided to apply it.

"Aren't you missing something?" Sebastian said.

Ciel remained stationed perfectly stoic, though Sebastian could see through the facade as Ciel contemplated what exactly he meant with a small glimmer of confusion. Sebastian's smile spread as he crossed his arms, waiting for the boy to figure it out on his own.

"I-" Ciel began for a moment, before he noticed Sebastian's new demeanor, and knew almost immediately what the demon was asking for. He was mocking him, assuming the same stature that he often displayed when he was the master; displaying himself as the one who deserved the utmost respect of every individual in his presence.

Ciel bit the inside of his cheek, feeling inside him a building resentment that he had to force the words out of his mouth. They were incredibly bitter, and he had to twist his tongue a few times to keep himself from throwing them up on the floor. Finally, he swallowed his pride and slowly coaxed himself to say them.

"What can I do for you, _my lord_?"

Sebastian's smile crept up, as he let the sentence settle in for a moment with a refreshing relief, "Ah, much better."

Ciel clicked his tongue in distaste, waiting for Sebastian to commence his order.

"Come here," Sebastian said, with a small gesture of his hand. Ciel was hesitant for a moment, but he left his station, taking the strides to him confidently. He stopped short of the desk, arms still behind his back. Sebastian motioned for him to go around the desk, which he also obediently obeyed.

Sebastian turned the chair so that he was facing the boy, and he held out his hand, "Let me see your hands."

Ciel obeyed again, retrieving his hands from behind his back and holding them out gingerly. Sebastian took one into his grasp, gently, and rolled back the sleeve to commence a better examination. It was almost humorous, the boy had wrapped them repeatedly to where they where like mittens on his hands. He could see now why all the jobs he had assigned him were so incomplete; Ciel could barely bend his fingers. Grasping things must have been a task of it's own. Sebastian looked at Ciel's face; the porcelain doll with a crack in it's eye. Pale as the moon's surface and delicate as milk glass. Though Sebastian looked directly at the boy, and possessed his hand, Ciel only stared at the floor.

"Look at me," Sebastian said.

Ciel didn't acknowledge the order again. Sebastian felt a small irritation at the back of his skull again, before he mentally banished it to the recesses of his mind and turned away from him.

"You will not be having supper tonight," Sebastian said, dropping Ciel's hand so that it fell to his side and swayed there limply, "but you will not be concluding tonight's work either. Tomorrow, I am having a guest visit, and so you will wake up early and go into town to retrieve the ingredients for a proper lunch set."

Sebastian took a pen into his hand and wrote down another list on a small sheet of paper. and handed it to Ciel, "Bring everything on that list, and report back tomorrow on time."

Ciel nodded, before turning to leave. Sebastian watched Ciel go for a moment before the boy's hand was on the doorknob. He smiled to himself again and said, "Aren't we forgetting something?"

Ciel paused and looked at him again, before he forced himself to saying, "Is there something else?"

"Wrong," Sebastian got up from the desk and crossed the room, once again towering over the boy. He knelt down and lightly skimmed one finger along the side of Ciel's face to his chin, tilting the defiant face up to look him directly in the eye, "What do you say?"

Ciel felt a little bit of his soul die inside as he managed to whisper; "Yes, my lord."

----------

Yay~! Chapter 6 is finished! Chapter 7 to come tonight!

Not as long as my previous two chapters. It's gotten somewhat darker, It was actually pretty difficult to write that this chapter. I would have gone into greater detail about all the chores Ciel had to perform, but I figured that after describing the laundry and sweeping escapades, that it was pretty self explanatory that he did a pretty cruddy job (Hey! His hands were mittens and he did them for the first time!).

Thank you all for your reviews and for reading my story!


	7. Chapter 7: Coléoptère

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _Coléoptère_ means _Beetle_ in French.

------

**-7-**

**Coléoptère**

Ciel's eye batted open, as he slowly pulled himself up out of bed. He looked at the window, seeing a thin line of moonlight slide along his bed sheets. He yawned, attempting to coax the sleep from his head, and prepare for his journey into town. Sebastian had ordered that he start extra early to retrieve fresh ingredients; and since he had to journey an hour and a half's ride into London to retrieve some of the more exotic items, he'd have to start at around three. He knew what time it was; his alarm had been a small prickling all over his torso as he slept, which grew more and more vicious the longer he ignored it. He rubbed his aching chest as he reached over to grasp at the silver watch lying open on the table. Leaning forward to position it under the moonlight, Ciel confirmed that it was approximately 3:14 a.m, and he pulled the covers open, letting all the frigid night air envelope his body. He shivered violently and he let out a small gasp as his foot touched the icy cold floorboards, and he crossed over to the cabinet.

He chose the white uniform this time; and dressed himself without a hitch, besides the shoe laces, which he repeated the last procedure on the opposite pair (he had abandoned the other pair due to the fact he could not undo his own impossibly tight knots.) He used his fingers to comb his hair, once again attempting to cover his eye and failing. Nowhere near satisfied, but already tardy, Ciel left the mirror and made his way towards the stables and carriage house.

Along the way, he began to feel an overwhelming concern about the task ahead of him: he had never prepared the horses for riding before, let alone for drawing a carriage. He required the space of the carriage for the items he was going to retrieve, so he had no choice but to use one, and that would require at least two horses. A dysfunctional reign could result in disaster, he knew, so one would be wise to know exactly what they were doing before trying to hitch such a massive animal to the cart. Unfortunately, the schedule and intense prickling feeling in his nerve endings pushed the need to research the procedure to the corner of his mind.

A small table by the East wing's exit door held a purse of money, a house key, and a note that read: "_This is an order: do not tell anyone who you are_." He tore the note into small pieces of confetti and threw them into the air, before grabbing the purse and key.

Ciel pushed the door open, and immediately shut it, shivering intensely. It was lightly snowing outside.

He tried to recall if he saw a proper riding cloak or a winter coat in the cabinet in his room, but a sudden flare up in his arm made him abandon the thought to go grab one. Instead, he wrenched open a closet near him and grabbed a folded blanket from within it. He wrapped it around his shoulders, nearly swimming in the fabric, before he set out again, black shoes crunching on the ice as he closed and locked the door behind him.

He nearly slipped a few times while rounding the side of the house, and he held his arms close to his body as he rubbed them warm with his hands. The snow was already soaking through his pant legs, and he could feel the soles of his shoes already slick and squishy with water.

To his surprise and relief, a horse had already been hitched to a small cart, and was waiting for him patiently as he made his way towards it. Ciel reached out one hand to stroke the animal's nose softly, in a way reassuring himself that the horse wasn't about to rear up and crush him. The horse just stared at him with large black eyes, and remained docile. Patting it gently, he rounded the side of it and grabbed ahold of the side of the cart. Putting his strength into a leg he used for bracing himself, he was able to pull himself into the high driver's seat. He sat in the middle, taking the black reigns into his hands. The cart posed one deficiency; there was no head cover from the falling snow. He drew the blanket around his body a little more so that it covered his head and most of his body besides his hands, and flicked the reigns.

The horse obediently started, and with a lurch, the small cart embarked on it's hour and a half journey from the Phantomhive estate to London town.

From one of the darkened windows of the mansion, a pair of crimson eyes followed the small vessel as it traversed the lane and disappeared behind the tree cover.

"Come back to me safe," he whispered, before he turned away from the moonlit world and retreated into the solid darkness.

† † † †

The journey had been long, cold, wet, and bumpy. Ciel had hardly any experience driving a carriage, and so the slow journey had been perilously turbulent. A couple times, he nearly crashed the cart by hitting a hollow in the road or a large stone. The horse had been sturdy; not a slip of the hoof on the icy road, but the cart had swayed a couple times with a few reckless directions on Ciel's part.

The smokey silhouette of London loomed beneath the cloud cover, and Ciel felt relieved, breathing into his hands now and again to warm them. The thought of being inside a warm anywhere was inviting, and his stomach growled with a vengeance. Having only eaten a tomato in the past two days, he was starving beyond comprehension. He no longer dreamt of filet mignon with rosemary potatoes... he just pictured a lump that read 'edible'. Anything would do; anything that could stifle the relentless hunger.

The darkened streets of the first circle of London brought the feel of a dead city; no signs of life on the streets, besides an occasional cluster of homeless people or a stray dog. He drove the horse onwards, until he smelled a rather pleasing aroma. Driven by his nose, the former Queen's Watchdog directed the horse to a bakery. He pulled up alongside the shop, and disembarked, remembering to tie the reigns to the hitching post. He also remembered the sack of oats that was normally stored beneath the driver's seat, and hooked it around the horse's head so that it could feed.

He peered through the window, seeing the inviting warm orange glow from beyond the darkened shop. Ciel's fingers wrapped around the door handle, and he pulled, but the door did not give way. The baker was in the kitchen, but the shop was not open for business just yet. Ciel stood back in disappointment, which soon gave way to determination, with a relentless urging from his empty stomach. He rounded the side of the shop, and followed the scent of fresh baked bread to the back door of the bakery. The door was open wide, and a group of small ragged children were all clustered around a rather portly man, who was holding onto a waste basket and pulling out pieces of bread. He issued a roll or baguette to each child, before shooing them away from the doorway. Ciel's eye was affixed to the golden-brown treasures as the urchins celebrated their achievements and ran off into the darkened alleys. Encouraged by his pleading belly, he trotted up to the doorway as the last unfortunate child departed, and the baker began to head back into the kitchen.

Ciel stopped the door with his hand, smacking it with urgency, before declaring, "I must have a roll!"

The baker turned to look at the soaking boy; hair messed from the blanket and condensation so that it stuck to his face and in haphazard directions, eye blazing with nothing short of desperation. His plaid wool blanket hung off his body like it weighed a ton, and his pant legs were rendered transparent from the water, so that it clung to his calves and shoes.

"I'm sorry, m'boy," the baker said, "I don't have any more bread for you urchins. It's first come, first served."

"I'm not some urchin!" Ciel started, anger flaring like a torch, "Do you know who I am?"

The poor baker looked at the delirious boy with confusion, contemplating if he should reach for the phone to call the authorities or animal control.

Ciel's tongue was silenced before he could go further; a feeling not unlike a pin being shoved through his tongue caused Ciel to cover his mouth and wince. The baker took a cautious step forward, asking in a soft voice, "A-are you okay, boy?"

"I... I'm fine," Ciel said, clicking his tongue a few times, before straightening up and resetting his demeanor, looking much more noble, "I don't require day old bread, sir. I'm a paying customer. I don't care whether your bread is baked or not, I am willing to pay for anything edible that you can give me right at this moment. Money is no object."

The baker's eyes widened at the boy's transformation, and even more upon hearing the piece about the money. Immediately, he went scouring for anything edible that he had on hand.

† † † †

"That crook," Ciel said, shivering in the alleyway as he pulled out a single croissant. It was warm, but it had cost him a lot of money. He put it back into the bag, before he noticed something was missing on the street: his cart.

"No," He said, breathlessly, before he looked up and down the street both ways several times, "NO!"

His only means of transportation was gone! With no cart, meant that he was not going to be able to ship the inventory he was sent out to get. He would not be able to return home, and worse; he was not going to be on time. He was stranded, and Sebastian would be cross with him.

For a quick moment, he thought he could follow the cartwheel lines in the snow to the culprit; but as soon as he looked down to see, his face fell as he saw that the increase in snowfall had covered the tracks completely.

"DAMN IT!" He cried, falling to his knees and pounding his fists into the snow. Seeing that he had been punching the bag he carried, he drew the now soaked bag up to his chest and sighed. He stood up, and looked around. He could start walking back home. If he started right away, he would be home by the time Sebastian's guest arrived. Starved and looking like a homeless child; what a sight for whatever honored guest to see. He decided that he'd remain where he was for a while. He was already doomed to Sebastian's wrath, he decided that he'd at least eat his now soaked bread in peace.

He walked down a dark alleyway, silently thinking to himself what had exactly happened. He had been sure to tie up the horse's reigns, he had done everything correctly. Why did his cart have to be the one that was stolen? Why did it have to be on a snowy night, and why did he have to be alone, wet, and cold?

He found a small four cornered clearing; alit with a single lamplight that glowed faintly in the darkness. A lone bench lay beneath it, covered in a sheet of snow. Ciel chose this spot for his feast, and cleared the surface of the white blanket with several pushes of his hand. Though the bench was wet and cold, it felt good to sit down on something stable. He drew the blanket around himself more, settling down into it, snatching at whatever warmth the soaked object had to offer.

The bag opened with a tiny breeze of warmth, steam curling out thinly, as if it had been choked. Ciel reached in to withdraw a now flattened croissant, it's flakey surface crumpled and slightly damp. He licked his lips for a moment, before opening his mouth to take a cautious nibble.

It was a mediocre taste, at best. The sogginess left something to be desired; it reminded him of wet paper. He shuddered for a moment, before he felt his stomach demand he take in more. He swallowed his noble palette, and commenced ravaging the meager meal.

Suddenly, he heard a strange sound from off in the distance; a sound that sparked a brief flash of memory. The sound of a machine roaring and tearing through whatever it touched.

Ciel shoved the remainder of his meal into his mouth, and got up from his perch, running off down an alleyway towards the sound. The alleyway had become somewhat of a labyrinth; with only the occasional _whirrrrr _of the machine to guide him, Ciel was getting frustrated that he couldn't locate the source, despite the many alleyways he traversed. Suddenly, he heard a piercing shriek, and he flattened himself against a wall, chancing to glance around the corner.

A vision of gore erupted into his eye and caused him to turn away, loosing his breakfast quicker than he had inhaled it. He clamped his hand over his poor mouth, as he closed his eye, trying to drive off the grotesque scene from his mind. The mutilated body as it lay on the ground in two pieces, eye roving and fingers still twitching as the man's life ebbed away from it's poor body. Ciel finally drew a brave breath, and swallowed his repulsion. He had seen his target as well; lightly flecked with blood, and wielding a now doused chainsaw.

"Ah~! And that's the last one!" the murderer took out a small red notebook and checked a box next to a name on the page, "Time to head home!"

"Wait," Ciel said, stepping out from behind the corner, gripping the blanket closer around his body so that he could hide the fact that he was shivering from the cold, and not fear, "Grell Sutcliff."

Grell turned around to see the kid come from out of nowhere. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tapped his chin with his pen, "Why does a little drowned rat know my name?"

"It's me," Ciel took his steps cautiously, and in a wide arc from where he had seen the massacred body. He dared not look down again to see, and he took a brave gulp as he stood with his head high. He knew he couldn't tell Grell who he was, but he trusted that the Death God would recognize him. If not, well, what was the consequence? Death? Ciel also was comforted by the fact that Sebastian's order; "You will not kill yourself or die until I say," had not unleashed it's fury on his nervous system, so he took that as a sign that Grell did not have any current intention of whipping around and slicing him in two.

The Death God seemed confused for a moment, looking Ciel up and down a couple times before shrugging, "Sorry... don't know any little street rats."

Ciel sighed with frustration and parted his hair, covering his sewn eye with his hand, "Recognize me now? Picture darker hair and a demonic butler behind me."

Grell's eyebrows shot up at the mention of 'demonic butler', and he briskly walked up to Ciel, crouching down to look the young boy directly in the face (a little too close for comfort). Ciel glared at him for intruding on his personal space, and upon seeing that familiar expression, Grell let out a loud squeal, "It's the little Earl!"

"That's right," Ciel said, taking a step back to regain his ground, and rubbing his ear to cease the insidious ringing in his eardrums.

Grell took Ciel's face into his black leather clad hands, tilting his face violently up and down, left and right, surveying all the differences. One finger pushed down on the tender spot where Sebastian had firmly smacked him, and Ciel let out a little hiss of pain. It didn't seem to impede Grell's inspection, however. Ciel tried to pull back, but Grell's other hand wrapped around the back of his head to prevent him from escaping. He didn't chance wrenching free forcibly; the chainsaw still rested a couple feet from them, still carrying the signature of Grell's handiwork. His eye returned to the Death God's face, as he exclaimed, "I absolutely love what you did with the eye! It makes you look so edgy~!"

"Thank you," Ciel said as politely as possible, hoping that the Death God would relinquish his face soon, "Sebastian's responsible."

"Ah, that horrible Sebas-chan," Grell let go of Ciel's face, only to drop him onto the ground on top of something that squished under him sickeningly. Ciel sat there frozen for a moment, eye wide and trying desperately not to think of what exactly was the source of heat that was now seeping into his clothes, and warming his legs and palms with a pleasant, yet grotesque feeling.

"Can you believe him?" Grell continued, picking up his chainsaw and slinging it casually over his shoulder, popping his hip out with attitude and resting his hand against it, drumming his fingers on it, "Gets a title and everything and will not so much as invite me for a tea!"

"No," Ciel slowly tried pulling himself out of the snow, feeling another sickening _squish _under his fingers. He did his best to bite back the nausea, "He's been too busy making my life a living hell. No thanks to you, by the way."

"You're very welcome," Grell took off his glasses, breathed on them, and rubbed them against his vest, getting a little smudge of blood on them in the process. Despite the worsened condition, he replaced them back onto his nose and pushed them up the bridge, "I bet he's just waiting until he knows what kind of tea I like. I know how much my Sebas-chan is a perfectionist in the ways of entertaining a special guest."

"I'm sure that's it," Ciel caught a glimpse of something shiny and red on his own hand, and refused to look down at it, choosing to look up at the Death God instead, "Grell, I have some questions for you."

"Let me guess," Grell sighed dramatically and flipped his long crimson hair out of boredom, "You want to ask why you're still alive, is that it?"

"_You're not as thick as you look_," Ciel wanted to say, but instead settled for a simple, "Yes."

"First," Grell looked down at the boy, "does Sebas-chan know you're out and about, little pup?"

"Yes," Ciel answered flatly; he figured being straight and to the point with Grell was the best way to go. The less he bothered to use elaborate responses, the more likely he was going to get what he wanted without loosing a limb. His eyes flicked back and forth between Grell's face and the ever looming chainsaw that now bounced on his shoulder, anything but harmlessly.

"I find it hard to believe," Grell tapped the side of his face in thought, jade green eyes trained on the sopping ragamuffin in front of him, "that he would let his little pet wander so far from home, and on his own, nonetheless."

"Believe what you will," Ciel said, "I'm on a shopping trip. It's a butler's duty, is it not?"

"Uh huh," Grell raised an eyebrow, bouncing the base of his chainsaw up and down on his shoulder, "And you are in the back alleys why? No shops back here, pet."

"My cart and horse were stolen." Ciel said, blue eye following the chainsaw in a steady rhythm, "I went for a walk. I heard your... _work_... and followed it. I have questions for you that I would like answered, if you'd be so kind as to grant me an audience."

"Before you go making any accusations," Grell huffed, "My work is completely legit today; I have the book to prove it."

"Is it always this... messy?" Ciel grimaced at the thought, his eye now taking in just how much blood was covering Grell's clothes. It was splattered everywhere along the white fabric; the red and white bow looked like it had been dipped in the stuff on purpose. Grell's pale skin was dotted with a flurry of crimson droplets, and his hair was slightly matted about his face with a darker liquid from his usual hair color. Some of his bangs were even painting his cheeks and forehead with it. The most disturbing part was that Grell was smiling wide with pride as Ciel surveyed him.

"Mmhm~!" the click of high heels on the cobblestones neared as he walked over to the corpse behind Ciel. Ciel just looked at a pure white drift, trying to block out the sounds of crunching and sloshing as Grell picked about the body. He then heard a sickening _snap, _and clutched at his stomach, trying to calm the sudden urge to dry heave into the snow bank.

Ciel's gaze was interrupted by Grell walking past, black gloves now glossy with a scarlet liquid as they shook off something that looked somewhat like a purse.

"You pickpocket your targets?" Ciel asked, feeling a bolt of pure repulsion once again.

"What? He's not going to use it," Grell used his shark-like teeth to pull his glove off, while he dumped the contents of the little purse into his bare hand. He counted the money aloud, despite the obstruction that muffled his voice, while Ciel took a few steps towards him.

"Grell," Ciel's voice bore a heavy strand of annoyance, paired with urgency, "Please, answer my questions."

"--- Alright, alright," the red head exhaled a puff of hot air in bitter annoyance, putting the contents back into the bag and syncing it tightly.

Ciel shuddered aloud, suddenly aware again of how cold it was outside. Grell paused to look down at him, before he smiled broadly and reached into his vest, bringing the little red notebook out into the cold once again. He flipped it open with one hand, and let out a little "Aha~! Looky here!"

Ciel looked up alarmed for a minute, as Grell read off, "Ciel Phantomhive, 6:34 am, Hypothermia!"

"You made that up," Ciel said accusingly, but taking a few cautious steps back, drawing himself down defensively.

"Yeah," Grell laughed shortly, clamping the little red book shut with two fingers and a thumb, "but you should have seen that baby blue get large! Your teeth have been chattering since you came out of your hole, it's been pretty irritating, actually."

Ciel had not been aware of it, but it was true; his teeth had been clattering together horribly, and even he could hear the dull sounds they made as clear as day. He hugged himself tighter, rubbing his arms to drive off the wicked touch of Cold's cruel boney fingers as they dragged themselves up and down his spine.

"Come with me then," Grell walked off towards one of the alleyways, "We'll talk once we get home."

"Home?" Ciel wondered out loud, before he trotted off after Grell, not noticing that the corpse and all the evidence of a massacre had completely disappeared behind him.

-----------

Chapter 7! Hopefully, I will be able to release Chapter 8 by tomorrow night!

((Grell was rather difficult to write for in this chapter; I'm sorry if he didn't come across as well as I intended him to. Despite him being one of my favorite characters, he's always such a challenge because he's so unpredictable! Also saying how there isn't that much interaction between Ciel and Grell in the anime, it's rather difficult to see how they'd get along. He didn't kill him when he was looking for Elizabeth when she was kidnapped by the doll maker, so I figure that the murderous intent isn't exactly trained on Ciel much past the Jack-the-Ripper scenario. Which is why I gave him kind of a playful 'Looky what I just killed!' demeanor for the sake of this chapter. And poor Ciel... no food for you! [favorite part to write: What's that warm squishy stuff, I wonder?]))

Thank you all for your reviews and for reading my story!


	8. Chapter 8: Larve

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering; _larve_ means _maggot_ in French.

-----

**-8-**

**Larve**

"Undertaker's?" Ciel stared up at the familiar old building; the dilapidated sign hanging slightly lopsided above the mortician's decrepit doorway.

"Of course," Grell sauntered up to the door, throwing it open with a loud lyrical shout of "I'm home~!"

Ciel hugged the soaking wet blanket around himself as he entered the shop, shivering horribly. Grell disappeared off into a back room somewhere, leaving Ciel alone in the darkened morgue. He shut the door behind him in an effort to keep in the warm air, but he soon found that the mortician's domicile was as frozen as the outside world, and it did nothing to calm his already quivering bones. Coffins; large and small, plain and ornate, some standing, some lying down, littered the room. He looked around him, on guard and waiting for the inevitable creeping lid to start squeaking open. When none came, he let out a small exhale of relief, and, upon seeing no available chairs, decided to take a seat upon a smooth mahogany coffin.

Ciel's ears pricked, as he heard a different sound coming from the back room. A faint little giggling sound. He sat up straight as Grell re-entered the room, carrying a small bundle of blankets in his arms. The Death God chose a coffin opposite of Ciel, and sat, one leg up on the tomb's surface, the other on the floor. He bounced the little bundle and cooed delightfully, before smiling up at Ciel with a prideful, yet equally demented, and very sharp grin.

"Earl, I'd like to introduce you to my little miracle," Grell brushed a piece of the blanket away, revealing underneath a delicate little oval face, with auburn red hair.

"You..." Ciel was silent with shock for a moment, looking down at the tiny infant in Grell's arms, before continuing, "Where did that baby come from?"

Grell huffed and hugged the baby close to him, defensively, "I found her fair and square! She's all mine, mine, mine."

"But where?" Ciel asked, having acquired new information on Grell's habits while working, he had a horrible feeling that Grell had killed for the child. What's more, he had a small fragment of dread for the poor infant's future. His own aunt, Madame Red, was turned upon by Grell in a spontaneous fit of disappointment that she had failed to kill her meddling nephew. Grell was essentially the infamous murderer Jack the Ripper. What kind of horrors would this tiny child have to endure? Would London's newest mass murderer and psychopath be born from this demented Death God's rearing?

"Her mother was dead," Grell said simply, nose turned in the air, "It was the during the fire that I found her. All bathed in red, it was like she was born just for me! Isn't that right, sweetie?"

_So, he pick-pocketed the dead woman of her needy child_, Ciel thought to himself, watching the tiny infant giggle and reach out towards the smiling Death God.

Grell continued to dote upon the tiny child, cooing and bouncing her occasionally. Ciel shook his head to rid himself of the infant inspired thoughts in order to regain his thought process. He sat up straight, and with a stern, yet proper tone, he began his interrogation.

"Grell Sutcliff," Ciel began, catching the Death God's attention for two seconds before he went back to teasing the child, "You said you'd explain to me what happened back at the mausoleum when Sebastian was going to... devour... me. To start off, why were you there?"

Without bothering to look at Ciel, Grell continued to play with his little amusement, rocking her while he answered his questions, "I don't get why you think it's such an unusual thing. You owed me one, and it was my last chance, so I volunteered to take it."

"But you didn't use it to have Sebastian do anything beneficial to you," Ciel was starting to get a little irritated by the fact that he wasn't getting the full undivided attention of his interviewee, but he was determined to squeeze out any information from Grell, if anything, to put his own mind at ease, "Why did you spare me? You don't even like me."

"Will said to," Grell said simply, lying on his back on top of the coffin, wiggling the infant back and forth in the air above, mimicking flight, "Too much insecurity in the world right now for one of our weapons to become unavailable."

"Weapons?" Ciel asked, curious and relieved that they were finally getting somewhere, "What do you mean, weapons?"

"Arghh," Grell groaned, looking over at Ciel, a slightly irritated expression on his face, baby still aloft in the air, "You are so annoying with your damn questions. Can't you see I'm having mother-daughter time right now?"

Ciel wasn't about to let it go; not that he had started answering one of the millions of questions that kept dancing about in his head. He shook his head fervently before asking again, "Grell, please, what do you mean a weapon would become unavailable? Surely you don't mean me..."

"Of course not, don't be stupid," Grell scoffed, before he sat up, "I mean Sebas-chan, of course."

"Sebas-ch-- I mean, Sebastian?" Ciel's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Why would he become 'unavailable'?"

Suddenly, Ciel felt a strange nudging behind his kneecaps, and heard a strange scratching sound coming from underneath him. His legs went up onto the lid of the coffin, before the lid slid off halfway, and a white haired figure emerged from within it, smiling happily.

"The demon will devour, and then he'll rest it off," Undertaker sang, getting up from out of his coffin compartment, "He'll lick up every trace of it, and sleep on your bones."

Ciel stared at the eccentric Undertaker with skepticism, and looked over to Grell for an answer in a language he could more properly comprehend, "Explain."

"Sebas-chan's got this little thing now, a bad habit, if you will," Grell patted the little infant on the back as he gently rocked her, "he'll grow and nurture a lost soul; douse it in sin and slather it with indulgence, before he devours it at it's pinnacle of flavor at the moment of the host's death, or at the termination of their contract. Afterwards, he becomes a sleeping beauty for about 100 years or so."

"He becomes dormant?" Ciel rephrased, communicating both his registration and confusion of the imposing sentence, "He's never mentioned that before..."

"Dead to the world like the dead he devours~!" Undertaker sang from the other side of the room, cleaning a rather dusty looking skull with his long grey sleeve.

"Right now, the powers that be aren't exactly secure on whether Angela and Ash were working alone or if they had other accomplices, what's more," Grell looked at Ciel with glittering green eyes, "they don't know if there are any nasty _left-overs_..."

"So, they plan on manipulating Sebastian?" Ciel asked, slowly trying to connect the new information together in his head to make a logical train of thought.

"Well, as long as you're alive, he's awake," Grell said, "He's the one who fought Ash, so he's a valuable ass~et!"

Grell giggled playfully after his pun, nuzzling the infant and coaxing another bubbling giggle from the child in response. Ciel watched the scene while mulling over the information he acquired, "Why would he need to sleep?"

"Not need, just desire," Undertaker shuffled over to a coffin adjacent to Grell's, "Exhaustion and hunger are two very daunting opponents to his little... _problem_..."

"I assume you mean me," Ciel said, feeling rather uncomfortable, before he decided to shift gears and start anew with a fresh question directed at the strange mortician, "Undertaker, why did I hear your voice in the mausoleum?"

"We were rewriting your future, pet," Grell said, looking at him again, "your book read that you ended that night, but we put a hold on it."

"A hold--" Ciel was stopped short as Undertaker reached into his dusty grey robes and withdrew a stark pink slip of paper, before the crazy corpse hauler crooned, "A Pink Bookmark."

"A pink bookmark," Ciel recalled that object from a while back; the convent where Angela had attacked the resident cult. Undertaker had used the Pink Bookmark to halt the time of the death, and a pink pen to rewrite the future of the person the book was focused upon. With it, they were able to send Sebastian, William, and Grell to the convent to fight Angela directly, thus saving the assigned woman's life, and possibly many others. He had forgotten this mystical object, and now understood what the faint scratching sound was as he was listening to the Undertaker's morbid poetry, pinned down to the Sebastian's stone dining table.

"So, you rewrote my future?" Ciel asked, gaze switching between the two Death Gods in search for answers, as if the words would turn up etched on their faces.

"The demon's hold is a very selfish thing," Undertaker smiled, "He grasps and will not let go. The more you pry at it, the tighter it's grasp becomes until the thing is obliterated in a marvelous display."

Ciel blinked, trying to make sense of the Undertaker's incredulous rambles, before Grell interjected, "In short; Sebas-chan's hold on you was too strong to rewrite. Physically removing the bindings was the only way to get you free, and even then, it was all really Sebas-chan's decision."

"Let me guess, you wrote yourself into the situation, and tried to remove the bindings?" Ciel saw as Grell smiled and flipped his hair with a bashful flair.

"Send a beauty to deal with a beast," Grell purred, "I volunteered straight away. Course, if I had my way, I would have done it with him on the floor right then and there while he had that vicious allure. Ooooo~ it gave me shivers. His eyes were so smoldering in the darkness, I just wanted to scream!"

"I'm surprised you didn't do that," Ciel said, "but I'm even more surprised that you knew where the bindings were."

"Death Gods can see what mortals can't," Grell said simply, turning his attention to the babe playing with a piece of his crimson hair, "It didn't help that Sebas-chan wanted to play though. As much as I enjoy him being frisky, since my probationary period, I've got to put business before pleasure. Take my little darling here," Grell lifted himself off of the coffin, lightly strolling about the room, and bouncing the baby lightly with his arms, "Poor little thing can't go to headquarters with me, so I have to keep her here with a sitter."

Undertaker chortled from across the room; he had somehow managed to slip away from the coffin he was perched upon and flit over to another coffin, from which he now stood inside in a mock- dead man's pose, arms crossed over his chest and tongue slightly lolled from out of his mouth.

Ciel raised an eyebrow and managed to exhale an "Ah ha", before Grell sat down next to him, once again invading his personal space. Ciel tried to scoot away, but Grell put an arm around Ciel's shoulders and pulled him closer so that he could get a better look at his little treasure.

"I named her Dahlia Angelina," he said, smiling slightly, "Isn't she beautiful?"

Ciel stared down at the little babe, nestled safely in the crook of her new parent's arm. Her little robin's egg blue eyes stared up at Ciel curiously, before she let out a little giggle and reached out for him. Ciel retreated backwards for a moment, startled, while Grell laughed,

"Scared of a baby while in the company of a God of Death?" Grell smiled, "you really are unbelievable."

"You named her after my aunt," Ciel said, feeling a little thread of sadness tug at his heart, while another bolder string of disgust wove around it and squeezed tightly. Angelina; the late Madame Red, who loved him enough to spare his life, despite what she risked losing, and paid with her own life for it. Ciel had resented the Death God for what he had done, but upon seeing the child in his arms, he could not chose between feeling deeply disgusted with Grell for naming the little child after the woman he brutally murdered before his eyes, or a strange lilting feeling that seemed to search Grell's face for a sign of regret for what he had done.

"Eh, I always liked the name," Grell shrugged, tickling the infant playfully.

Ciel banished the feeling to the recesses of his mind and narrowed his good eye, "I see."

The little baby continued to giggle, and it interested Ciel that she was not terrified of the man cradling her, still splattered with droplets of dried blood and sporting such vicious teeth.

"I was supposed to be at peace," Ciel sighed, averting his gaze to the darkened floor, "I resigned myself to my death, so sure of everything. I even passed the opportunity to continue existance. I wanted that to be my ending day... but instead, I get this horrible future! Sebastian's become this despicable _thing_, I don't even look like myself... and he made me actually believe..." Ciel's arms hugged his chest tightly, his eye closing tightly, fighting back the ocean of emotions that flooded his mind.

Ciel looked up to see Grell looking down at him, a small bemused smile on his lips as his little child lay on his lap. For the first time coming from the red Death God's lips, Ciel heard something that shocked him down in his core; "Shit happens, get over it."

Ciel was silent, before Grell looked down at Dahlia again and tickled her, crooning happily.

"So, what's to become of me now?" Ciel asked, staring down blankly at little Dahlia as she was dallied by her 'mother'.

"Do whatever," Grell said, getting up again, "but Sebas-chan must be getting _very hungry_... he's probably salivating at your progress every time you shoot a glare his way. The powers want him awake, that means you have to stay alive, even if he makes your life _delightfully_ _nasty_."

"Why should a dead man care what these powers want?" Ciel said, "My soul belongs to Sebastian, I won't see any pearly gates nor feel the fires of Hell... so what is my motivation to stay alive other than by his own command?"

Grell didn't bother to look at him, "Don't you care what happens to the residents of this city?"

Ciel bit his lip, "I guess..."

"Then you're just going to have to be a martyr," Grell said, lifting Dahlia up into the air, laughing, "Saint Ciel, the boy who had to walk five miles in the snow to find a bakery~!"

"Well," Ciel scowled, before he arrogantly pulled his persistently dripping blanket around his shoulders, standing up, "I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg. "

"Oh, that's a shame," Grell smiled mischievously, "I'm sure in due time, you'd make a very sweet sound_ begging."_

Ciel blinked at him blankly again, before he banished the conclusion that rose to the back of his head. He rose from the mahogany seat, thanking Grell for the used time, though the Death God was too busy playing with his little treasure to notice. He turned for the door, but then thought of something immediately as his hand touched the knob.

"Undertaker," he turned to the silver haired man, who was now lying in a coffin right next to him, "today, I want to try out one of your deluxe coffins. Do you have time?"

Undertaker sat bolt upright in the coffin, arms still crossed over his chest, hands on either side, before he clapped them together excitedly and squirmed with delight, "The Earl wants to try out one of my coffins~! Oh lovely day, lovely day... I'm so happy, happy, so happy!"

† † † †

It had been about two hours since they had departed; the little mule took forever to traverse between London and the lane leading up to the Phantomhive mansion. Undertaker directed the coffin cart, sporting a shiny ebony casket, complete with silver inlaid and handles. He hummed to himself happily as he seamlessly drove the little cart over the ice and snow strewn roads.

Upon reaching the Phantomhive mansion, Undertaker jumped down from the drivers' seat and rounded the cart, bending over to lift the casket's lid. Ciel had fallen asleep within the coffin, and he lay, curled up and clutching a partially eaten baguette for dear life, on the silken exterior, deeply engrossed by dreamland. Undertaker took a giddy joy to seeing the sight, but did not attempt to wake the boy. He closed the casket's lid and unloaded it at the mansion's doorstep, before climbing back into the driver's seat of his little wooden cart, and continuing his journey back home.

The mansion's door opened, and a hand slowly pushed the coffin's lid off about three quarters of the way. Ciel did not stir then, even as he was inspected by the pale fingers that brushed away his bangs and lightly felt his temperature. Sebastian also noted that despite Ciel's current lonely position, he was surrounded by a small set of wet foodstuffs and a large drenched plaid throw blanket. His gaze continued to drift to the massive rusty red stains that covered his pants and jacket cuffs.

He reached down and took the sleeping boy into his grasp, hauling him up into a bridal style embrace. Sebastian clicked his tongue in distaste as he felt his clothes slowly convert to equally sopping messes. Though Ciel refused to relinquish the baguette he was clutching close to his chest with desperation, he slumbered in Sebastian's grasp. He was dead to the world, deep asleep, to the point where he did not feel it as Sebastian softly brushed his lips across his forehead, taking in a small sampling of the sweet taste lying deep inside him by inhaling the gentle scent of the boy's skin. Sebastian shuddered, feeling an intense longing crawl along his spine.

He paused, noticing Ciel stirring in his sleep slightly, pressing his face against Sebastian's chest again. He was in a quandary; his guest had not arrived yet, and nothing was prepared. However, the soaking wet child in his arms was in danger of contracting a sickness should he be awoken and forced to work. Deciding an ill servant was of no use to him, Sebastian considered the first step to properly washing the blood from his legs and arms.

Sebastian laid him down upon a long table in the laundry room, deciding it best to transfer the ruined garments immediately to the wash then to let them lie. He undressed the child easily, and used a bowl of hot water to scrub off the grime and dried gore.

_Just what exactly had his dog been up to?_ He scrubbed gently along Ciel's bare arm, feeling the gentle warmth ebb through his skin, like a small line of magma was bubbling deep beneath the surface. Tempted, Sebastian lifted the clean hand to his lips, inhaling the pure scent of the boy's skin, tasting the aura of life that wrapped around Ciel's body. He dared to briefly drag his tongue across his knuckles, tasting the promise of the soul nestled deep beneath them. The temptation was unbelievable, and it continued to claw its way up his back and itch at the back of his skull. His eyes closed in appreciation for the intoxicating sensation, before he slowly opened them again, and was greeted by a single blue eye staring straight at him. Ciel had not moved, but his one good eye was trained directly on Sebastian's face; wide and alarmed.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Ciel finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice soft from sleep, but still baring a tone of demanding," What are you doing?"

Sebastian remained quiet, his deep scarlet eyes lingering on Ciel's face for a moment, before he got up from where he sat, and poured the remaining of the hot water on Ciel's body. The boy let out a gasp of shock, before he sat up from where he lay and shook his head violently.

"What was that for?!" He shouted, rubbing his face with his arm, "What where you doing to me?"

Sebastian looked at him sideways, "Where were you this morning?"

"Answer my question first!" Ciel recoiled, bringing his legs and arms around him like a defensive fortress, "What were you doing to me?"

"That is of none of your concern," Sebastian crossed the room, pulling from a stack of fresh pressed clothes a shirt and pants, before tossing them at Ciel, "Now, I command you to answer me, where were you this morning?"

Ciel felt a horrible burning sensation that suddenly erupted at the back of his neck, and spread the longer he delayed giving a response. Ciel cried out in pain, before he said, "I went to London, went shopping, came home."

"You're being awfully vague," Sebastian said, eyes narrowing, "why were you in a coffin?"

The flare ups began to cause Ciel's mind to reel in an array of bright colors, as he couldn't pick apart what parts he could say and what he could omit; Sebastian would not like it if he told him he had interrogated Grell and Undertaker; he would have become suspicious of such a visit. However, the coffin on the doorstep was an instant give away, and Ciel had to desperately claw at the fragments of truth that he could spin into a witty answer that would satisfy the demon and mask his interview.

"My cart was stolen," Ciel shouted, falling back down on the table as another shock of red blared in front of his eye, "Undertaker had the only cart I knew of! Make it stop!"

Sebastian exhaled slowly, and as he did so, Ciel's pain slowly retreated, replaced by an empty coolness. Ciel lay breathing harshly for a couple moments, sweat beading along his forehead from enduring the torture session. Sebastian reached down and brushed his matted bangs away from his face, softly, before he felt Ciel's temperature again.

"You are lucky you didn't freeze to death," Sebastian sighed, seeing that Ciel was not going to dress himself any time soon. He brought Ciel's body to an upright position and began slipping the white shirt over his head, "prepare next time before you leave."

Ciel nodded, defeated, breathing still irregular as the demon dressed him. Before long, he was finished, and Sebastian grasped ahold of his hand and tugged him to his feet. Wordlessly, he led him to the servants' room, where Ciel, in his first display of kinetic energy that afternoon, ran to the bed and dove into the pillow, not promising to surface again.

Sebastian closed the door behind him, sighing as he looked down at his hand again, feeling the soft pulse of his own contract etched on his flesh. He balled his fist and walked down the hallway, carefully contemplating what he should prepare for lunch.

-------------

Chapter 8!

A lot of dialogue here, but hopefully it wasn't too obnoxious! I'm working on Chapter 9, which should be up tomorrow if all goes well! This one was a nice light headed one, apart from the dark happenstance at the Phantomhive mansion (it's only gonna get worse as time goes on).

This fanfiction has become quite long! I'm glad that so many people have decided to read it! Thank you all for your awesome reviews, and for sticking with me!

[[Side note: Undertaker's another hard one for me; again another favorite, but so difficult to write for. Writing this chapter with the interview was extremely difficult as well, since i had to incorporate a lot of loose ends (Oh my god, a Grell pun!) while still honoring some of the conditions from the anime series final episodes. Also, I apologize if there are any inconsistancies in relation to the anime (for example: Angela and Ash being mentioned as two people. I know they are a fusion, but I still address them separately.) The following chapters are gonna get pretty dark, and now and again I meet a 'what if?' fork in the inspirational road that takes a while to reflect on. Hopefully, the story is remains interesting, if not enjoyable!

Second Side Note: I got several messages expressing interest in what the playlist was that I've been talking about. Unfortunately, I cannot post the URL here of the official player, but I can make you a list of some of the songs.

His Butler; My Master Playlist:

1. Lies- Evanescence

2. The Game- The Disturbed

3. Please Don't Leave Me- Pink

4. Letter from the Lost Days- Akira Yamaoka (Silent Hill OST)

5. What Have You Done?- Within Temptation

6. Sea of Redd- Phontaine (Featuring Nadia)

7. To the End- My Chemical Romance

8. Strawberry Gashes- JACK OFF JILL

9. Afterlife- Avenged Sevenfold

10. Love Me Dead- Ludo

11. Beautiful Lie- 30 Seconds to Mars

12. Poison- Groove Coverage

13. The Phantom of the Opera- Nightwish

14. Genetic Emancipation- Alexa Vega (Repo! the Genetic Opera)

15. I'm Alive- Becca

And that's it! Thank you for all your reads and reviews! I hope to update again very soon!]]


	9. Chapter 9: Guêpe

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering; _Guêpe_ means _Wasp_ in French.

-----

**-9-**

**Guêpe**

He could have slept a millennia and not cared. Every time he stirred from his sleep, he stared at the pillow; white roving hills of soft warm tenderness, and closed his eye again.

He dreamt of days that once where; obnoxious laughter chorusing though the mansion, unwelcome guests, bothersome lessons, and ridiculous assignments. Things that he had considered so futile and obstructive, now gone forever. The halls of the mansion remained silent and cold, the guests came, but not to see him, and the assignments from the Queen were stilled. No longer his responsibility, yet he desired the days when he was the one the Queen looked to to ease her weariness for her people's welfare. Now and again, flashes of that fateful night when he 'died' floated in and out of his subconscious. He recalled seeing the Queen's body; decrepit and rotten, eyes dead like a fish and body lying sprawled on the bed. He remembered the brutal, yet brief, sting of a bullet sent through his side; tearing his flesh open and sending him to the floor in a heap of shock and warm pain, and he reminisced the moment when Sebastian appeared at his side, telling him that he could not die there.

_Sebastian._

He remembered staring at that back; the broad black clad shoulders, agile long legs, strong, yet elegant arms that could catch a bullet in midair. How he had watched with breathless awe as he performed...

Ciel buried his face into the pillow, fingers clenching at the soft, yet prickly object as he tried to suffocate the lingering feeling of sadness that emerged in his throat. Had those final moments they shared together been all a sham? How could he have gone from a doting butler who had offered him a quiet death, to a tyrannical creature that took delight in his misery?

He supposed that it had always been apparent; the many times he had suggested his true feelings of his little master. Only now, he held the straws and Ciel had none; being kept alive by the demon for the sake of 'marinating', as he came to think of it.

He sighed heavily, breathing in the stale scent of the pillow, before he turned his face again, closing his eyes and trying to think of something else other than his new master. However, he found it difficult. Nearly everything seemed to contain either too much pain or images of the butler, always present, in the background of his life.

Then, he found his thoughts drift to the technicolor memories of someone who he had long taken for granted. Someone who had loved him, unconditionally, yet he had shunned for her immature and indelicate nature. Lady Elizabeth seemed to dance through his mind, offering up soft images of in a whirl of orange, yellow, and pink, with a faint scent of daffodils in the breeze, and the delicate taste of white tea fused with lemon and honey, paired with freshly baked sugar cookies. He could hear the sound of her laughter as she danced in the ballroom, grasping his hand and blushing softly as he looked at her.

His one eye opened slowly, staring off at the space between the floor and the bed, as if she could materialize before him should he picture her perfectly. He could remember the softness of her peach toned skin, the warmth of her fingers entwined with his own, her butter yellow hair drifting in the wind like silk banners.

Often he had treated her rather harshly. Despite her meaning well, he had thought of her primarily as an annoyance, and secondly as a painful reminder of the life that was taken from him. Regardless her efforts, he refused to break his taboo and smile for her. Why couldn't he have managed something as simple as a smile? It would have let her heart ease, and probably given him a little more peace of mind (free from her relentless tries to coax him). His mind continued to drift to another thought; his own funeral. He had forgotten to inquire how his end was celebrated, if at all, and wondered about Elizabeth's reaction to the news. Had she spilled tears down her rosy cheeks for him?

Had there been an open coffin? Did that mean that somewhere in London, a grave bearing the name Ciel Phantomhive stood erect? Was there a body buried in England's breast, or just an empty case? The new questions flowed through him like a river, only this time, he figured that he'd ask the two Death Gods for answers the next time he went into the city. He even entertained the notion that he could very well stand on his own grave, should it exist.

He could feel a numbness in his body, besides the cold, that seemed to nibble at his fingertips and legs. The more he tried to not think about it, the more it seemed to drift about his consciousness.

_Sebastian._

Why was he doing this to him? Why had he lied to him? He had sworn to never tell lies... how could he lead him to believe that things would be over and done with? Now he lived in this twisted world that continued to smash against him like brutal waves; misfortune, pain, betrayal, distrust, discord, loneliness...

Slowly, he got up from his bed, sitting up and hugging the blankets around his body. He looked up at the window; through the thin crack in the shutter he could see a world of pitch black. Night had descended upon them, evidence that he had slept through the entire day.

He felt his stomach cry for food; the baguette had done little to pacify him, but it was a start. He crossed the icy cold bedroom floor, picking up the candlestick from his bedside before leaving the room.

The hallways were deathly still; no wind danced through the window draperies, no moonlight bathed the walls and floors, and no sounds could be heard from any creature in the house. Ciel walked along the corridor, fingers tracing over the wallpaper lazily as he went, feeling their rough texture beneath the pads of his fingertips. He paused to look out one window, barely seeing the white world nestled in the bosom of darkness. The snow had completely covered everything in a pure white mantle, and icy veins spread over the window pane. Ciel touched it, taking in comfort from the nip of cold that greeted him.

It felt so surreal; being in the place he had called his home, yet feeling like a complete stranger within it's halls. He turned from the window and continued on his way.

Why had Sebastian let him sleep? He knew there would be repercussions awaiting him in the morning, but he continued to mull over the new flood of questions, such as who was the mysterious guest he had missed entirely that day, and what exactly Sebastian was doing to him in the laundry room. He glanced down at his hand, feeling the memory of that hot soft tongue dragging along the top of his knuckles, the feel of warm breath causing little prickles to rise up his arm. He could recall the small rivers of warmth that seemed to generate under his skin whenever a simple brush of the demon's lips met his surface.

He shivered with a mixture of disgust and cold, rubbing his arms briefly and continuing on his way. His steps were soft, yet he felt he could hear them echo off the walls, annoucing the midnight traveller as he searched for food.

He nearly missed the kitchen, but once inside, he perused the room for something edible. As if awaiting him enveloped in holy light, a lone pastry sat abandoned on the table top, alighted by the glorious flickering light of his candlestick. Ciel rounded the table to get closer to it, placing the candlestick on the wooden surface as he loomed over the little treat with dire hunger in his eye. It didn't take much mental debating for Ciel to recover a fork immediately and sit down to eat the dessert with gusto. Every bite was like heaven; warm flakey texture, creamy filling that caressed the tongue, and flakes of chocolate that kissed the taste buds goodnight before disappearing down the throat. Every bite nearly coaxed a tear from Ciel's eye, in deep appreciation of the miraculous taste, and depression that the more he indulged, the less he had left on the plate.

Soon enough, all evidence of the pastry's existence were wiped clean off the earth, via a terri cloth dishtowel that Ciel had recovered as a stand in for a proper napkin. He got up to wash the dish, but met a wall of darkness with a loud thud, before falling back against the table.

"Midnight snacking?" Sebastian's smile was almost scary in the flickering candlelight. Ciel just glared at him from the table side, fingers clamped down on the edge and shoulders rigid. The plate had landed with a loud crash upon the floor, and now lay in numerous shards about their feet.

"I haven't eaten properly in days," Ciel said defensively, "no thanks to someone out to torture me with no meals."

Cold fingers dipped beneath Ciel's bangs, brushing them away again to sample his temperature. Ciel would have backed away, but considering the table he was now pinned against to, he couldn't do anything but glare up at the demon. Sebastian remained silent, as his fingers drifted down the side of Ciel's face, lightly stroking the smooth skin there, though briefly as a drifting feather. Ciel could feel their tickle against the surface of his body, and it caused a couple troublesome chills to do a waltz along his shoulders and spine. He shook free of the entrancing touch, and smacked Sebastian's hand away viciously.

"Don't touch me," Ciel commanded, withdrawing into himself, "I'm not ill, and you aren't my butler, so stop acting like you give a damn about me and my condition!"

Sebastian's eyes stared into Ciel's soul, causing Ciel to wish desperately for someplace to retreat to. Those crimson orbs bore into Ciel's, inspiring a deep sadness and a bitterness within him, as he fought to break from that unholy and unrelenting gaze. Ciel finally shut his eyes and looked away, gritting his teeth.

Suddenly, he felt a firm grasp around his shoulders, as he was hauled up onto the table. Ciel struggled against the hold, before Sebastian pushed him back by his chest against the hard wood surface, holding his arms above his head. Ciel fought to break free of the iron grasp, as Sebastian held both delicate wrists together and down against the wood table with one hand, and grasped ahold of a kitchen knife from the wooden block on the table's surface.

Ciel's eye opened wide with fear, as the demon brought the knife down over his head. He clamped it shut, awaiting the inevitable incredible pain that would blossom within his wrists. A loud _thud_ reverberated through the table as the knife was driven home, but when no pain came, Ciel cautiously looked up to see that the knife had been driven though the sleeves of the white shirt he wore, pinning him down to the table top.

Sebastian's hands no longer held him down, but he was firmly secured to the wooden surface, and despite his struggles, he could not break free of the firmly planted knife's hold. His vision didn't last long, as the candle was blown out, submerging the room in a void of darkness.

Ciel looked around him, straining to see what was going on in the dark world.

_Pinned like a butterfly to the board, _Ciel thought, struggling desperately.

Natural instinct urged him to break free of the entrapment, and Grell's words still held it's weight; "_You do care about the residents of this city, don't you?_"

He felt hot breath against his face, and something soft brush against his skin. Ciel cringed, biting his lip as he felt Sebastian's lips explore his flesh. Each caress was light and delicate, but each tickle was welcomed with rotten disgust, as Ciel bit back the urge to thrash against him. He wanted free; he didn't want this gentle touch; a mask for the hungry sampling that Sebastian indulged in. Like the pastry on the table, Ciel lay ready for eating; tender, warm, and delicious. He had devoured the entire pastry in mere moments without hesitation, and the feeling of Sebastian's mouth searching the nape of his neck caused him to fear for his soul, lying deep down within him, as if seeking refuge at the depths against the wood of the table.

There was something else that bothered him; distant, but still saddening, as the demon began to slowly unbutton the white shirt, lips descending along his throat and spreading over his Adam's apple, licking it playfully and coaxing an audible moan from Ciel's mouth. His end would be delivered upon his own kitchen table, unceremoniously, unlike what had been promised him from the time upon the Plutonian shores, inside the white mausoleum. Something disappointing seemed to linger, now and again interrupted by a flare up of his nerves accepting the soft caresses of Sebastian's lips against his warm skin. Despite his repulsion, his body was giving in to the kisses, shivering and causing his heart to quicken in his chest, fluttering like a trapped bird. Once or twice, as the lips skimmed over his chest, pausing above his troublesome heart, he felt his spine arch with an electric current of pleasure, only to suppress it immediately with a soft whimper and a forceful slam down against the table top.

Finally, his sanity could take no more. The pain deep inside him overflowed, and his body thrashed against Sebastian, twisting like a fish to drive away those torturous lips and detestable emotions and responses. His eye clamped shut as he tried free himself again, and he felt those icy cold hands snake about his sides, as is attempting to hold him still, but putting little effort into it. Ciel wanted them off; he wanted those feelings of delicious pleasure and delicate caresses to disappear, and be replaced with what they really were: carnal desires, deep desperate hunger, wicked lust that wanted to tear him apart piece by piece and lick up the soul resting deep within.

"Enough!" Ciel cried out, his voice raw, "What are you waiting for?!"

Sebastian paused, warm breath still blossoming against Ciel's chest, as the boy's rapid breathing began to slow, and he continued, "Why all the games, Sebastian? Are you just too _exhausted _to unhinge your jaw and eat me whole?"

There was a shifting sound, before Ciel suddenly felt Sebastian's breath against his face again, the presence of the demon's eyes mere inches from his own, despite his blind state. Ciel jerked his arms down again, trying in vain to break free of the binding that held his wrists aloft, desperate to get away, determined to run from those two crimson orbs that could burn into his soul even when invisible in the darkness.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Sebastian's voice was icy cold, like it was responsible for the dead white world outside, and it chilled Ciel down to the bone. He felt the tickle of Sebastian's inky black bangs against his forehead, as he leaned down closer, and Ciel recoiled against the table top, "Did that Undertaker plant such ridiculous notions in your head?"

"No, not him, but it's true, isn't it?" Ciel barked, "Or was I not 'seasoned' enough for you like you thought? Wasn't I not 'the soul you hungered for?' The soul who lay in a bloody heap on the floor of Buckingham Palace? Wasn't I not the one who you promised Death?"

"Trying to twist things about in such a way," Sebastian's cold hand slid over Ciel's chest, resting against his delicate throat, "It's very unbecoming of a servant to lie to their master."

"Oh, you'd know so much about that, wouldn't you?" Ciel spat, "And you fed me all that tripe on the boat. Made me believe that I had accomplished so much, and made you... made you..."

Ciel's voice faltered, as he bit his lip, recalling that painful memory, and feeling the well of emotion deep inside him begin to overflow from despair. Sebastian was still above him, until Ciel could feel cool fingertips gently brush against his eye, wiping away the obnoxious wetness that had issued forth. He turned his head away, breathing ragged as he mentally fought off the horrible feelings of regret and grief that ebbed and flowed throughout his entire body.

"You really are a monster," Ciel whispered.

"You're absolutely right," Sebastian's breath was against his ear briefly as he whispered, before his soft fingertips tilted Ciel's face to look up at him, that void of darkness that yielded no sight, but bore a voice dripping with the poison honey, "I am a monster."

Suddenly, his lips crushed against Ciel's, a deep violent kiss that stabbed deep into Ciel's soul, body, and mind; rendering it splintered like glass on the floor. The intensity of heat, coarse thrashing tongue battling his own, soft lips and teeth; chaos in a single kiss that shattered all of Ciel's sanity, sending nothing but hot pins throughout his body. The taste of smoke, darkened fire, of souls reaching for heaven seeking salvation and being pulled down into the depths of eternity, a sliver of dead hopes and dreams that fade as the twilight falls, the silent tears of a soul in mourning, and the tumble of sinful delicacies that danced over his tongue and fell into the back of his throat. The kiss brought forth a single crashing wave that descended from his mouth to every corner of his being, bearing heat, pain, desire, longing, disgust, repulsion, distaste, lust....

Visions rushed through Ciel's head; bloody massacre, fires dancing, figures waltzing, smoke choking, blue baubles, purple haze, the cracking of a whip, and murky water.

Sebastian broke away, allowing Ciel to surface and draw in a deep breath, breathing harshly, his small chest heaving as his heart beat at incredible speeds.

He stood up, before he took out his gloves and started putting them on, "You are right, however. I am no longer a butler, and Ciel Phantomhive, my young lord, is no more. All that's left, is this insolent pup that I picked up from the side of the road who needs to be disciplined properly."

"Woof," Ciel barked defiantly, glaring at Sebastian with a new flame of loathing deep within his corneas; his lips burning with the aftertaste of the demon.

"Since you are being so relentless," Sebastian pulled his glove down over his hand, flexing his fingers, "It seems I haven't been training you well enough. You have had your candy, and denied me my own, so it shall be the whip for you."

Ciel growled, all of his sanity blaring a deep scarlet red as the demon's indifferent voice continued, "I believe you've slept enough, so affective immediately, you will be cleaning the entire mansion from top to bottom. I am also expecting company again later tonight, and this time, you will be preparing a full course dinner to show proper hospitality for our guests. I will not tolerate tardiness, incompleteness, nor complaints. Do so, and I will punish you."

"Oh," Sebastian added as an afterthought, as he drew the knife from the table, releasing Ciel's arms, "and since you've stolen my dessert, I think it only deserving that you not eat today until I say so."

"Which means I get to starve today again, am I right?" Ciel rubbed his wrists in the dark, clutching them close to his chest as his shoulders shook with suppressed rage. His stomach moaned in spite, wordlessly begging for sustanance now that it had been denied food again.

"That depends on you," Sebastian placed a hand on Ciel's shoulder, before letting it trail off, and disappeared into the darkness.

Ciel grasped around for the useless candlestick, and once in his grasp, he plowed it into the table top a couple times, crying with every strike. He felt the anger twist and coil around inside his chest, constricting around his heart until he felt it would burst. He rubbed his mouth several times, trying to rub that bitter heat away, the foul memory of soft lips and tongue and taste and desire...

He crouched down on the kitchen floor, feeling the gentle refreshing coolness of the tiles on his feet, almost comforting from the terror seconds before. He rested within his fortress again, his mind reassembling itself as he clamped his eyes closed and tried to think of other things; the gold, orange, and pink whirls of color, the white tea, daffodils on the wind...

All that came was the lingering taste of smoke, black tea, apples, and an everlasting void of darkness.

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And Chapter 9. Chapter 10 to arrive very soon!

A little late today, my apologies. This is not the end! There are many more chapters to come, so stay tuned for more updates!

Thank you very much for reading and for your wonderful reviews!


	10. Chapter 10: Coccinelle

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering; _Coccinelle _means _Ladybug_ in French

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**-10-**

**Coccinelle**

Four cookbooks lay on the counter top, spread wide open and creased in so many places, their pages had deep wrinkles. Ciel stared at the books, completely in a bind. He remembered a full dinner set consisted of at least five courses, and even then, if Sebastian so willed it, he could have very well been saddled with over 21 courses to prepare, with very limited knowledge of the kitchen's layout, let alone how to operate one. The pages of the books seemed to mock him, as his eye skimmed every page drastically, hoping that some inspiration would strike him, and having little luck.

Cooking was an art form; one had to have years of prior experience to create the perfect dish, let alone one meant for noble palettes. Ciel rubbed his pounding temples, trying to think of a solution. He'd settle for five courses, that was certain, but what to make with the limited food he had brought home was perplexing. Now and again, different memories of the foods he once devoured floated through is mind, but when he thought deeper as to what composed those delicious morsels, his stomach would complain horribly with a loud growl, and his muse would disappear in a puff of smoke.

Frustrated, he grasped a bowl from under the kitchen table, placing it on the table top with a little too much force, so that it ricochet from the counter and fell onto the floor with a loud clatter. He grabbed cups, spoons, different devices that looked like they could possibly be useful, and as he scoured the kitchen for implements, the clutter along the countertop became monstrous.

He heaped all the ingredients he could possibly find on another part of the tabletop (he had accidently dropped the flour on the floor, and was now stood in his own private winter land, covered in white patches from the billowing dust cloud), and occupied his mind trying to arrange them in order by food groups.

He sat back, staring at his arrangements of all the kitchen supplies and thinking to himself about how impossible his situation had become. He had no clue where to start, and seeing all the tools lined up on the tabletop had hammered the last nail into the proverbial coffin. He sulked against the wall, sliding down it to hug his knees to his chest, resting his forehead against his kneecaps.

Cleaning the entire mansion had been a tedious and horrible task; despite the times he had performed it, the cleaning of every single room took an eternity, and even then, he knew he had been cutting corners and not doing much of a good job. His fingers stung with new blisters from all the dusting and scrubbing, and he was already exhausted, despite the fact that it was around 1:30 in the afternoon. It did not help any that Sebastian seemed to purposely compose new chores for him to perform. Any ignorance of any command resulted in the painful wave of hot pins trickling throughout his body, and so he was urged onwards, despite the horrible conditions. In short, cleaning the entire mansion was a daunting task for a cluster of individuals, and impossible for just one. He thought to himself just how exactly fair the whole situation was: hadn't he supplied Sebastian with a team of servants? Where was his help now that he required it? The more he thought about it, the more bitter he became, and the more he wanted to trash the entire order upon the kitchen floor.

Suddenly, there was a blunt, yet quick rapping of knuckles against glass. Ciel looked up quickly to find the source of the noise, and saw an all too familiar face staring back at him from the kitchen's back door, letter in hand and knocking impatiently.

Ciel got up from his slump, and ran to the door, wrenching it open, "Grell, what are you doing here?"

"Well, hello to you too," Grell pushed his way through the door, tossing Ciel aside like a rag doll.

"Here to see Sebastian, I assume?" Ciel sighed, shutting the door behind him, "You do know he'd more than likely kill you just so that I could have a bigger mess to clean..."

"Tch," Grell clicked his tongue in distaste as he surveyed the condition of the kitchen, "Sebastian would never approve of all this clutter. Believe me, he'd have all this shining and spotless. This place has gone downhill since those good old days."

Ciel glared, though he had to admit, he had done quite a nasty job to the poor kitchen; what with the blanket of flour covering a quarter of the room and himself, and all the kitchenware heaped haphazardly on every surface. Still, he defended his work and his pride, holding his head high as he further addressed the unwelcome guest, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Grell. I have dinner to prepare."

"Is that what you were doing?" Grell looked around the room, before pulling up a stool and taking a seat upon it, "looks more like a tornado struck in here. Doesn't preparing dinner usually require... finesse?"

Ciel's face heated with embarrassment, as he rolled up his sleeve and grabbed a radish from the tabletop, "I'm perfectly capable of doing everything myself, thank you. I have a method, so if you will excuse me."

He snatched up a knife from the wood block and sat the radish on the board, raising the knife up to strike.

"As much as I'd like to see your pretty blood decorate the room," Grell had gotten up from his seat and snatched the knife out of Ciel's hand, holding it out of the boy's reach, "I can't bear the fact that you are holding this completely wrong. Move aside," Grell shoved Ciel out of the way, holding the knife like a professional and attacking the radish smartly.

"Up and down, like this," Grell instructed, as Ciel watched his process with slight irritation and interest. The knife seemed to dance as it was held properly, and the radish fell in thin slices in no time, though they were varied in width and some were wedges instead of proper parallels. Ciel looked up at the redhead, pausing with enlightenment at what exactly he had acquired; a resource. Grell had trained under Sebastian before as a butler, back when he had worked for Madame Red. Though Sebastian had refused to show Ciel the proper guidelines for all the tasks now dealt upon him, let alone the kitchen work, he had once instructed the rather bumbling butler on how to do a proper job at many of the customs and chores performed in the house of nobility. Whether any of it stuck, besides how to properly use cutlery, was a question all it's own, but at that moment, Ciel had more help than he ever had within the days of his own servitude.

"That's very interesting," Ciel said, leaning over to inspect the radish slices, "Do you think it could be possible you show me more procedures?"

"Hmph," Grell scoffed, stabbing the knife into the wood block, "I know what you're doing, you little manipulator."

Grell sauntered over to his stool and sat down, crossing his legs and arms in a huff, nose upturned, "You're trying to use me to do all your work for you."

"Not at all," Ciel grasped a pan from under a stack of kitchen utensils and pulled it out, littering a mass of bowls and spoons on the floor with a loud crash. He jumped back and covered his ears, though he saw the Death God roll his eyes and shed his red jacket, leaving it on the stool. He rolled his sleeves a quarter way up his arms, and undid his neck bow, tying around his long crimson locks into a loose ponytail.

"Alright, incompetent fool," Grell grabbed a pot from the clutter and planted it firmly on the stove, "Go grab everything on the ingredients list here."

He shoved a book in Ciel's face, opened to the page with 'Tomato Bisque' written in bold letters. Ciel held the book, eye roving over the page quickly, before he nodded and rushed about the room, picking out the ingredients needed. The ingredients were surprisingly few, and Ciel had little trouble finding them. Grell began stewing the tomatoes and onions, though he watched them very closely, almost obsessively, to the point where he continued to bark orders at Ciel without looking at him.

Ciel ran around the room, preparing food left and right. Though the dinner was at an unexpected time, Grell insisted that there was no other way than to immediately prepare all the courses and heat them up later, "Less time for people to wait," he recited as he whirled the spoon around and around inside the pot.

"Good to know something Sebastian taught you stuck," Ciel said under his breath, though the Death God seemed to pick it up as if it was loud and clear.

"This is for Sebas-chan, right?" Grell said with loud huff, stirring the pot, "so this is my chance for him to sample some of my cooking. He'll fall in love with me immediately after it's gone down his throat."

Ciel rolled his eyes, "I'm sure he'd appreciate anything that isn't burnt beyond recognition."

Cooking had become somewhat easier since the second butler's arrival, despite a couple problems (Grell's infamous clumsiness was still apparent in his duties, often resulting in more broken dishes, and several do-overs). Before long, Ciel looked down at five separate dishes, each one baring a promise of edibility, though not exactly the most beautiful of culinary accomplishments. Ciel also noted that every dish had a red theme to them; tomato bisque, caprese salad, lobster, filet mignon (rare) in red wine, red potatoes with rosemary, and strawberry mille feuille. Grell wiped his hands on a towel, proud of his work, though it had taken many attempts. They placed the dishes for holding within the ice box, and Ciel shut the dishes away.

"All you'll have to do is lightly heat them on the stove before serving," Grell said, putting his black gloves back on over his hands.

"Thanks," Ciel shut the ice box and walked over to the pile of equipment that was in great need of washing, and began to scrub at a particularly large pot covered in burnt tomato bisque.

"Don't get used to it, doll," Grell slipped his jacket back on over his arms, "I won't be around to help you out again."

Ciel didn't bother to ask why, too busy trying to scrub a rather stubborn clump of soup that was clinging to the pot's side. When Grell didn't receive a look of interest his way, he continued, "I'm putting in for a transfer; to France."

Still achieving no attention, Grell persisted, "I've decided I'm tired of the mediocre butler life, and I've come upon quite a bit of money, enough to start fresh and new. So, I thought to myself, 'why not start over someplace that is the pinnacle of high class and fine living? If Sebas-chan can climb up to such a height, so can I!'"

"So you're going to France to make a name for yourself, is that it?" Ciel said, not bothering to look up, "I'm assuming it's some sort of ploy to get Sebastian into your net."

"You're bright, for a kid," Grell grinned, running his hands through his hair and letting it dribble through his fingers, posing rather glamorously as his voice turned into a seductive and breathless purr," I'm going to France to propel myself into the ranks of high society with a business operation all my own, and once I am a lady of high caliber, Sebas-chan will beg to _merge _with me."

"What will be your business then?" Ciel was now working on another pot, scrubbing it rather obsessively.

"Eh?" Grell's smile fell into a confused twist.

"You said merge," Ciel looked up at the bewildered Death God, blue eye containing the cold corporate heredity bestowed upon him through years of high society's breeding, "You need a successful company to even fathom entering into the ranks of the bourgeoisie, and even then, you aren't a noble by birth, so you'd be nouveau riche at best. You'll have to obey all the status quo, jump through all the hoops of nobility, follow all the rules, guidelines, etiquette, and attend all the social gatherings just to get into a noble's good graces. Do you seriously think you have that ability?"

Grell stared blankly at the little Earl, who's cornea once burned with a dying flame of defeat, now blazed with the memory of his former life. He rolled his own jade eyes and sulked, "Well, not all of us were born an entrepreneur with a silver spoon shoved up our ass."

Suddenly, Grell's eyes widened with illumination, as he considered the boy who stood a few feet from him. His black clad fingers stroked his chin as his lips curled into a knowing smile, "But you were, weren't you?"

"I was a leader of a couple companies located throughout the world," Ciel said, matter-of-factly and rather cold, "not to mention the Earl of Phantomhive, in case you've forgotten that little detail too."

Grell looked giddy as the plot formulated in his mind, blossoming like a illustrious rose the more he thought about it. His smile finally stretched from ear to ear, showing off his entire set of razor sharp teeth, his eyes glowing menacingly, as the plot came to complete fruition, "How about you come work for me then?"

Ciel withdrew himself from the depths of the large pot, holding a scrub brush as if he was going to bludgeon someone with it, "What nonsense is that you're spouting? Did you forget that I belong to Sebastian?"

"Oh, let me deal with that little detail," Grell sauntered up to Ciel's side and reclined over the countertop in front of the boy, blocking him from continuing his chore, and forcing him to focus on him as he sold his pitch, "If you come work for me as my little butler, and help me out with my own company, then I'll rescue you from the beast's jaws. You won't have to put up his wicked ways anymore."

Ciel looked at him, his gaze studying the crimson Death God with skepticism. A small minute flicker of hope flared up for a minute, as he considered breaking away from the torturous life that had been bestowed upon him. A life where he wouldn't fear for his devoured soul, a moment when he could rest, and a fool who he could easily manipulate. However, the idea was suddenly snuffed out by a downpour of reality, as he shook his head vigorously, "You're barking mad. Sebastian and I have a contract. You can't just simply break it! He'll find me anywhere I go, he'll control me from every corner, and you must be mental to think that I'll ever go work for Jack the Ripper, who killed my aunt on a whim just because it suit you!"

His volume continued to rise, until Grell clamped his hand over Ciel's mouth, hissing in a fierce whisper, "Shut up, idiot! Do you want Sebas-chan to realize I've been helping you? We'll both be done for! Now, I realize that. Water under the bridge. Besides, I can't kill you. Orders are orders, remember?"

"That doesn't matter!" Ciel hissed, smacking Grell's hand away from his face, "I'll never work for you! I have a commitment, this is my punishment for accepting Sebastian's services. I'm Ciel Phantomhive, and I won't run away from fulfilling my side of a deal. Even if it is Sebastian."

Grell huffed, floating his palms to either side in a exasperated fashion, "Fine, have it your way."

He lifted himself off the counter, rounding Ciel's side, before he leaned down next to Ciel's ear, whispering softly, "The best part about my offer is, I'm not Sebastian."

"Just give it some thought," Grell stood up at full height and smiled knowingly, "I'll drop by for your real answer later."

He strut over to the door, but paused before his hand was on the knob, spinning around on his heel and retrieving the envelope that he had tucked away into his jacket, "Oh, Will told me to give this to you. Don't let Sebas-chan see it, okay?"

With a small flick of his wrist, the letter sailed out of his hand and drifted into Ciel's grasp, as he turned and headed out the door, slamming it behind him as he disappeared around the corner.

Ciel looked down at the black envelope, flipping it over and studying the wax seal that held it closed, baring the emblem of a red skull. He took a kitchen knife and slid it under the flap, tearing it open and revealing a single page letter inside. He retrieved the parchment and read over the uniform words:

'_To Whom it May Concern;_

_Due to the recent events beyond our control, we have decided to take special precautions and begin a thorough sweep of any loose ends left over from the London Fire incident. Since our knowledge of the situation is very little, we require the availability of your demonic counterpart. Ipso facto, your continued survival and endurance to your recent conditions is consequently vital to us. If you do find retirement absolutely necessary, please give prior notification to the management department. _

_- William T. Spears_

_Dispatch Management Division'_

As Ciel finished the letter, he crumpled it up in his hand and walked over to the stove, sending the paper and its envelope to a fiery end. He watched the glowing embers as they quickly devoured William's notice, and rubbed his arm lightly, comforting himself. He felt sick, feeling the remains of Grell's words slither along his spine from his ear; "_I'm not Sebastian_."

Whatever Hell Sebastian had decided to unleash upon Ciel, it wasn't convincing enough to force him into the service of someone else, least of all the vicious Death God. His skin crawled with disgust, his nails biting into his tender arm, as he mulled over the idea of him working under the crimson devil. What horrors would he endure then? Surely more disturbing and mortifying than whatever Sebastian had delivered him unto. He could feel the blades of the accursed chainsaw already, tearing through his flesh because he refused to make a corpse out of some person on a street, if not preparing breakfast tea wrong.

He took a deep breath, shivered compulsively, and then looked at the kitchen with a new outlook; _Sebastian was not Grell_. Sebastian had only ordered him to do little tasks throughout the household. It wasn't as much of a horrific thing as he was making it. Perhaps he had given Sebastian a bad reputation from the start due to their shifting relationship, as master and servant. Maybe it was time to make peace with his demon, and show that he was grateful that he was not the same. He crossed the room, taking a rather ornate tea pot from the cupboard, and poured some hot water he had left on the stove into the vessel, adding a couple spoonfuls of tea leaves and leaving it on a tray. He retrieved a tea cup and saucer as well, and set it up neatly, remembering to supply sugar, milk, and honey in case Sebastian was feeling fickle. He looked at his gift with consideration, and satisfied, pushed it out of the kitchen, deciding to clean it after he delivered the steaming beverage to his master.

† † † †

It didn't take long for Ciel to discover Sebastian in the study, scratching his pen away at a stack of papers. He knocked on the door, announcing his arrival, and crossed the floor to the desk, pausing to bow politely before saying, "I've prepared tea for you, my lord."

The words didn't sting as viciously as before; they seemed to fall naturally now, pleasantly. Ciel felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders with the new realization of gratefulness that he his so called punishment was not as severe as he had made it out to be. He decided that taking a more docile route was a more suitable choice; perhaps it would yield a series of privileges returned onto him for better behavior. However, he still had his precious pride, and so offered little love in his tone, only the voice that bore the stoic and corporate tone of business. He waited for Sebastian's reaction with minute anxiety, wondering whether the demon would appreciate his impromptu gesture or just dismiss it.

Sebastian didn't bother to look up from his work, though he did manage to say, "How far along are you with your work?"

"I've finished the primary preparations for dinner tonight," Ciel said, heading back towards the door to retrieve the tea tray, rolling it in and pouring a cup full of the steaming amber liquid, "and I have finished grooming the rooms in the West Wing. I only have the parlor and entrance hall to clean, and the outer walk."

"Hmph," Sebastian took a page and added it to the ever growing pile next to him on his left side, "so the East wing is nowhere near done, then?"

"I intend to do that as well," Ciel said, keeping his head cool, despite the cold indifference in Sebastian's voice as he continued to scratch at his documents, giving Ciel little attention, despite the fact he was making the tea for him at the best of his ability, "I am just one boy, if I should remind you."

"Excuses seem to flow easily in your blood," Sebastian stated simply, punctuating his statement with a flick of his wrist, dragging a thin black line of ink across the page and into the air with finality.

Ciel struggled to maintain the illumination he had harbored earlier, though with Sebastian's ungrateful attitude was beginning to irk him. He placed the tea on the table and put his hands behind his back, waiting for Sebastian to partake. When the demon made no such gesture, Ciel coughed, as if to encourage him to look up at the slowly cooling beverage awaiting his sampling.

"I notice that you are there," Sebastian added another paper to the pile, "and not finishing up your duties. You're wasting vital amounts of time, and my guest is going to arrive any moment now. Will you be insulting me further with your frivolous attempts at gaining my favor, or will you be doing what I ordered you to do without any further disappointments?"

Ciel felt his blood heat, as the inner fire within him flared up and engulfed his illumination in hellfire. The weight slowly fell back onto his shoulders, and he could feel the irritation with his predicament blossom once again. He bit his lip, before he nodded, his tone icy cold and containing nothing but spite for him, "As you wish, _my lord_."

'My lord' was dipped in the most poisonous tone he could divulge from deep inside him, as he turned on his heel and exited the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Sebastian alone with his paperwork. He held his back against the door, feeling the hot poison seep down his throat like tar and cling to every piece of his being. He beat his fist against the door for a moment before lifting himself from it and walking down the hallway, grasping the handle of a broom that was propped against the stair railing as he made his way towards the parlor.

As he swept the floor, his mind drifted through the moment in the study, considering his own reaction and the completely ungrateful wretch that sat at the table. The more he battled the dirt and grime that littered the floor, the more he stewed. Sebastian could have accepted his token with a little appreciation, and he would have felt compelled to repeat the action. However, Sebastian had shunned him, and did little to acknowledge his outgoing gesture. He felt embarrassed that he had even thought of making the beverage, and quite forgot exactly why he had done so without it being instructed of him.

Disappointment soon gave way to sparked urgency, as he heard a faint noise from outside; the plodding of hooves and the creaking of a carriage's wheels.

'_The guest's arrived_,' he thought, as he quickly stowed the broom away in a closet, doing a quick survey of the parlor and entry way before fixing his jacket and placing a hand on the door.

He opened it quickly to receive the guest, and his eyes opened in disbelief and shock as he was greeted with a familiar series of senses; a whirl of yellow, orange, and pink, the scent of daffodils on the wind, the taste of white tea with lemon...

"_Elizabeth_," Ciel gasped inaudibly, as a blonde haired maiden emerged from the carriage depths. Ciel could feel his entire being go frigid, as the painful memories flowed through his head, watching the girl as if she was a mirage, conjured to existence by his own wishful thinking. Once assisted by her maid, Paula, in the exiting of her compartment, she smiled softly as she looked up at the mansion, hands clasped over her chest as her hopeful eyes searched the building, as if for a familiar person to be residing in one of the windows. She sighed, heavy hearted, as those eyes fell upon the young boy standing at the doorway, as still and pale as one of the statues that adorned the garden.

"Hello?" she greeted, taking a couple steps up the walkway, "I'm Elizabeth Middleford, daughter of Marchioness Frances Middleford. I'm here on behalf of my family to meet with Lord Bastion Phantomhive."

"Lord... Bastion?" Ciel felt a little more of his soul decay inside him, as the girl to which he was once betrothed stood mere inches from him, addressing him with that lyrical voice, yet held not a single shred of recognition of the boy in front of her. Even more, the name she used made his stomach lurch with the knowledge that the twisted game within the halls of the Phantomhive mansion was not confined to just himself, the demon, and the meddling Death Gods. The surreal dream that he was living in had roots that were delving deep into the garden of his former life, and had now found their way to Elizabeth.

"Yes, he is the heir of the Earl of Phantomhive, is he not?" Elizabeth inquired, tilting her head slightly as she considered the boy who stood there, looking at her with such a sad, deep azure eye. Something about it sparked familiarity, yet it faded with the sheer impossibility of it all, and she corrected her stature promptly.

"... Right this way," After a long pause, Ciel was finally able to choke back his emotion and force himself to be proper, stepping aside and opening the door wide for the lady to enter. He bowed, feeling the swelling feeling of decay and despair shift inside his body as she passed. Once she and her maid were inside the mansion's entry, he closed the door behind them, and offered to accept their coats.

"This place," Elizabeth shed her orange cloak, looking around her as Ciel accepted it, "I swear, they must have the most talented architects and builders! This entire place has burnt down twice previously and they still are able to recreate it to every minute detail!"

Ciel would have laughed aloud, but he wasn't anywhere near in the mood for laughing; coats hung, he took a position by the West stairs, and bowed, "This way."

Elizabeth and her maid followed behind him as he slowly made his way up the staircase, silently, while the young lady continued to be marveled by her surroundings, exclaiming loudly, "My, they do such an incredible job redecorating it to exactly the way it was! I recall all these scratches on the railings! Look, Paula! This dent here was there before, wasn't it?"

The maid smiled pleasantly and nodded curtly, before Elizabeth tugged on one of Ciel's black coattails to get his attention, "By the way, what is your name?"

Ciel opened his mouth to answer, but he felt the warning of Sebastian's order creeping along his tongue, sharp little pinpricks dancing along every last taste bud, threatening the extraordinary pain should he reveal his true identity. He cringed, before he said, "I'm just a butler, nothing more."

"You don't have a name?" Elizabeth inquired quizzically, tilting her head again in confusion, "How can that be? Did your family not give you one?"

"I was found on the side of the road," Ciel said, the words of truth baring sharp stings in his own psyche, "My lord was responsible for my inditement into servitude."

"Ah," Elizabeth nodded, "How charitable of him! He must be a kind soul, but that's a common thing amongst the Phantomhive line."

Ciel was puzzled by what she meant, and as if on cue, Elizabeth continued softly, "My... fiance was the late Earl of Phantomhive. His name was Ciel. He was such a sweet, kind boy... I remember him so well. He started being so cold after his parents left this world... but I could still see that sweetness deep inside him. It's a shame."

"What is?" Ciel could feel the pang of pain that dripped into his voice, as he listened to Elizabeth's words, a reoccurring thought of 'you remember me, yet you can't recognize me?' floating through his head.

"That he's gone," Elizabeth's own sweet voice held a ribbon of solemnity, as her eyes stared at the floor, delicate fingers netted over her stomach as if in prayer, as she continued, "during the London fire... he disappeared."

"So they replaced him?" Ciel inquired, feeling a subtle strain of anger ebbing through his jaw, "Found some wretch who claimed to be a Phantomhive and seated him in his rightful place?"

There was a rather long awkward silence, before Elizabeth blinked and said, "Um, actually, Lord Bastion had undeniable proof of his claim. You, as his servant, ought to know that."

Ciel stared at her for a long hard moment, before he shook his head and nodded, "You're absolutely right. It is my own failing that I did not recall that detail. Now, he is in here."

Ciel's hand shook as he grasped the door handle to the study, feeling inside him a twisting, slithering serpent composed of grief, rage, doubt, and anticipation; what elaborate play had Sebastian set up for that evening? What despicable circle of Hell did the nefarious, devious denizen of Hades decide to construct for his own personal enjoyment? Deep inside Ciel, the chaos of anguish continued to bloom, as he felt the eyes of his former fiancee on his back, and the deep confusion of Sebastian's agenda boil and froth inside his core.

He clenched his fingers, and his jaw, as he opened the door, bowed, and announced, "Your guests have arrived, _Lord Bastion Phantomhive_."

-------------------

Chapter 10! Chapter 11 to follow shortly.

Sorry for such a long period between updates this week; I've been ill, so writing has been a little difficult to focus on. However, I'm finally on the healthy side, so I can write comprehensible matter again.

Oohhh... what horrible things unfold!


	11. Chapter 11: Araignée

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you who are wondering; _Araignée_ means _Spider_ in French.

-------

**-11-**

**Araignée**

Any remaining substance of Ciel's sanity was shattered, as his vision was met with something so utterly disturbing, so painstakingly cruel, that he felt all the air leave his chest as his eye met the figure standing patiently against the oak desk. Tall, with broad shoulders, still donning a midnight shade, yet wearing a completely different face; one that caused Ciel's stomach to twist horribly and force him to cover his mouth and recoil, unseen, to the side of the room, looking at the wall as he shook with horror.

Despite his reaction, Elizabeth did not seem to notice, and with a cheerful, yet formal tone, she addressed the monster standing mere feet from her, fingers laced gracefully and wearing the most luminescent smile she could offer.

"Good evening," She began, taking a couple steps forward, "I'm Elizabeth Middleford, daughter of Marchioness Frances Middleford. I'm here on behalf of my family to formally welcome you to England, and to give you this letter of introduction as proof of our intention of maintaining a strong connection with the last of the Phantomhive line."

Paula produced a rather elegant looking envelope, handing it to her mistress, as she held it out towards the man, "I do hope that you have the same intent."

Ciel refused to turn around, but the voice that met his ears caused him to wince, and he covered his ears with his hands, hoping that they would be sufficient to deafening him from the words, as Lord Bastion Phantomhive spoke.

"I am honored that you have seen it in your favor to grace me with your visit, my lady," Sebastian said, "I was not expecting such a lovely young guest to drop by. I was certain it would have been the Marchioness herself."

"My mother is attending other duties, though she thought it proper that since I am of age, that I could handle such matters myself," Elizabeth explained, " and I must say, you bear quite a striking resemblance to the late Earl of Phantomhive. I can see why they were convinced."

Ciel shut his eye tightly, as his shoulders shook with a horrible frenzy; Sebastian's face... his face... _he stole his face_.

"People should not be convinced by looks alone," Sebastian said, accepting the letter from Elizabeth's hand and retrieving from a drawer a silver letter opener, which he slid under the flap and broke the seal with one quick fluid motion. He extracted the letter and read it, as he continued, "though it does help when one must prove their lineage. People are so skeptical in this day and age, that they can't recognize the truth before their eyes."

"I agree," Elizabeth nodded, before she stepped closer to get a better look at the young man's face, pausing to exclaim, "My, it's uncanny! You could very well be his twin! If only Ciel could have seen you... I'm sure then he would have smiled."

Ciel caught the sound of Sebastian's chuckle; almost inaudible, as if directed squarely at him, as he inquired, "Smiled? Is there something about me you find humorous, my lady?"

"Oh," Elizabeth waved a hand in front of her face, dismissing her statement, "it's just that you look so much like his dearly departed father. When Ciel's family died in a house fire, it was like all joy left his heart. I'm sure, though, that if he could have seen you, he would have felt like he had his dear father back from the dead. You did say you were his half brother, is that so?"

"Yes," Sebastian's voice bore no regret as he stated his lines, as if they were the truest words ever uttered, "I was illegitimate, though I inherited his legacy regardless. Something regarding his son's cowardly abandonment of his country... if not premature death."

Ciel's eye opened, and he resisted the urge to whirl around, to scream at Sebastian for the horrible lies that he continued to read off eloquently, one by one dirtying the Phantomhive name. _Illegitimate? And calling him a coward by 'fleeing the country?' And he... he stole his father's face!_

"They don't know what became of him," Elizabeth said softly, looking down at the floor again, "My poor Ciel... they say he was on the bridge as it was collapsing. A witness saw him fall to his death, along with his faithful butler. They say that there was no way that he could have survived the fall... but they couldn't find a body... they say that the sea ate them."

"That is quite a possibility," Sebastian said simply, before he tucked the letter away into a drawer of his desk, and looked up at Ciel, who was now facing him; a pale, quivering ghost haunting the corner of the study. His lips curled into a small amused smirk, as he took in Ciel's precious expression; pain, agony, rage... white knuckles and clenched jaw.

"Quite," Elizabeth repeated, as she heard the sound of the clock strike five. She turned to look at Paula, before saying, "I'm sorry that I dropped by uninvited, I should be going now."

"Oh," Sebastian smiled pleasantly, "Please stay for dinner. What kind of a host would I be if I sent my always invited guests home hungry? It is the least I can do for this wonderful gesture from your family."

"I couldn't impose," Elizabeth said, before Sebastian put a hand up, cutting her off and replying, "You are not. My servant has dinner already prepared and waiting, if you'd be so kind as to accompany me, my lady."

Ciel felt everything inside him turn to pitch black, as he watched in helpless agony as Sebastian took Elizabeth's hand into his grasp and lifted it to his lips, planting a gentleman's kiss upon her knuckles, and coaxing a sweet warm blush to bloom upon the debutante's cheeks. His soul's slow decay met full fruition, as his one eye fell upon a familiar blue flash, as the light of the lamps ricochet off of a large square cut azure stone that adorned Sebastian's ring finger.

_.... My ring..._

He felt empty; his feet stayed firmly secured to the floor, yet his legs felt wobbly, as if he'd fall over at the first attempt to move. His core felt hollow, as he took in the scene in all it's splendor. Every torturous vision cut him deep down to the heart, and poisoned every inch of him. There was no fire... there was no honorable description for what he could feel festering deep in the pit of his chest where his heart once resided.

"Oh," Sebastian's words cut his meditation through like a knife, "You're still here. Go downstairs and finish preparing our dinner."

When Ciel remained unresponsive, Sebastian firmly repeated his command, and a single wave of red hot needles running up and down inside his bloodstream was issued, and welcomed with a loud hiss and a double over motion on Ciel's part. He looked up to see Elizabeth's emerald eyes focused on him with curiosity, and he nodded, making a dash for the door and yanking it open so that it banged against the wall upon his exit.

Left behind, Elizabeth returned her gaze to Lord Bastion, a look of worry gracing her face as she pondered over the boy's unusual behavior, "Is he ill?"

"Ah," Bastion exhaled, shaking his head, "I'm afraid he's always been a tad out of sorts. Ever since I found him on the side of the road and clothed him, he's been quite the spectacle. I must warn you, he is rather protective of me as his master, and jealousy plagues him like a demon. You would be wise to be wary of him."

"Oh my," Elizabeth exclaimed, covering her mouth.

Ciel ran down the stairs, into the parlor, through the hallways, across the kitchen, and grappled with the door handle to the outside world, finding it a very difficult task as his body shook uncontrollably with rage. He smacked his body against the door, in an attempt to force it open, but finally gave up, sliding slowly against the surface to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

_How could he?_

As he lay there on the floor, the pins slowly crept up his arms again, which coaxed a cry from Ciel's lungs, and a vicious tearing at his poor body; his nails raking the flesh where the pins continued to sting painfully. Seeing his own blood as he withdrew his nails, he cried out again, retreating to his fortress of his own limbs to regain his sanity, and failing horribly. The more time he took, the more the pain's intensity grew, and still he continued to replay the horrific images in his head.

Finally, his body could bear no more, and he tried to re-assimilate his thoughts enough to maintain a proper order. He took a deep breath, and tried to reconsider what had transpired, yet he could only feel a cruel sadistic river of pain and memory that wove around within his body, choking his soul. Deciding that relief of the pain was the first thing he needed, he rubbed his eye as he warmed the soup on the stove, attempting to drive off any emotion that would continue to plague him.

† † † †

First course was the tomato bisque, which Ciel served on the best bowls he could find. He stared down at the floor, refusing to look up at the scene of his childhood friend feasting with the monster wearing the mockery of his father's skin. Only the pain kept him anchored there; the desire to leave the estate all together was so strong that he was on the verge of tears. His condition wasn't helped, as Sebastian clicked his tongue upon taking a spoonful of the red liquid and inspecting it before sampling. Elizabeth, who had already lifted the utensil to her lips, paused, as Sebastian dropped the spoon back down into the bowl, sighing.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, lowering her own spoon.

"There is a layer of film on the surface of the soup," Sebastian said coldly, "and it's lukewarm at best."

Ciel bit his lip, before he took a few steps forward and grasped ahold of the bowl, "I'll bring the next course then."

His words were shaky and almost inaudible, though they bore a thick layer of poison that he hoped would seep into Sebastian's ears. He took Elizabeth's bowl, though she made an effort to encourage him, stating that it was 'a pretty presentation'. Her words didn't offer much solace, as he drifted away from her.

He delivered the caprese salad, though no sooner had he set it down on the table, Sebastian had picked through it with his fork and declared it insufficient; "It's wilted. You never chill a salad. You serve it immediately after preparation, or else it looses all it's initial flavor. I swear, it's like you're trying to give our guest stomach poisoning."

"I think it looks alright," Elizabeth insisted, though again she was foiled in partaking in her entree, as it was again taken from her.

Upon receiving the filet mignon and lobster dishes, the young lady clamped her hand over her nose, as she exclaimed, "Urgh! It smells like death!"

"Did you even cook this?" Sebastian said, holding up a small piece of the beef, as it dripped sloppily onto the plate, splattering crimson juice all over the bone china.

Ciel remained silent, though he was able to sort through all his clutter of pent up emotion to curse Grell for his horrible cooking assistance. On top of his trauma, he was constantly assaulted with insults, criticizing his efforts without consideration. The more his ears were met with Sebastian's critique, the more he wanted to tear off his head. He could feel his body shaking, too small to contain the unbearable typhoon of madness that bubbled in his throat.

"Enough," Sebastian said, throwing his cloth napkin onto the plate, and sitting back into his chair, "I'm sorry, my lady, but my incompetent staff apparently finds it necessary to poison you."

"I'm not trying to poison her!" Ciel shouted, planting his hands on the table, glaring at Sebastian menacingly, "Stop lying to her!"

"You dare talk to me in such a way?" his father's face held a darkness that caused Ciel to recoil, and his body jolted suddenly with a fresh assault of needles.

Elizabeth stared in shock as the boy next to her seemed to enter a frenzy, fingers clenching at the table cloth with pain, hissing from the needles as they cruised down his bloodstream and stabbed into every fiber of his being. She abandoned her chair, backing away from him, clutching her hand to her breast defensively.

Ciel whirled around and advanced upon Elizabeth, eye wild with pain and desperation. He grasped ahold of her shoulders, issuing forth a loud shriek from Elizabeth, which prompted Paula to try to pry the insane boy from her mistress. Ciel struggled against her fingers, as he shook Elizabeth, "Lizzy! Lizzy! Look at me! You know it's me!"

Suddenly, his pain escalated, and a massive pin seemed to hammer itself into his chest, causing him to cry out in pain. Elizabeth's eyes were wide with fear, as he doubled over, fingers still clutching to the fabric of her dress. She tried to free herself, but his grip was so tight, that it threatened to tear her sleeves clean off.

"Please, Lizzy, please, look at me! Don't you recognize me?" Ciel's voice was choked with pain, and barely audible by the debutant, as she made another effort to wrench herself free. He looked her in the eye, and to his own despair, took in the pure fear that those emerald orbs could only yield.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, twisting out of his grasp, "I'm afraid you've gone utterly deranged!"

Paula tried in vain to pull the boy from Elizabeth, but a quick white light flared up in Ciel's head, as a blow landed against his face, sending him onto the floor. The side of his face filled with a wash of warm pain, vicious stinging, and the taste of rust. His head remained dizzy and blank, as he stared at the floor, traumatized.

Lord Bastion Phantomhive flexed his fingers as he turned to address his distressed feminine guests, "I'm truly sorry for this horrible scene, I will show you out myself."

Elizabeth followed Sebastian out of the room, down the hallway, though her words were still clear as day to Ciel's ears as he remained on the floor of the dining room, "Because of my family's long connection with the Phantomhives, including my own engagement, I would hate to have to break ties with you; but this... this is beyond--"

"I agree indefinitely, and he will be disciplined. That, I can assure you," Sebastian said, as the women retrieved their coats and exited the mansion.

"One can only hope so," Ciel heard Elizabeth say as she entered the carriage, and Sebastian closed the door behind her, leaving himself and the boy alone once again.

† † † †

When Sebastian had returned to the dining room, the boy was missing. All that remained of him was a small splatter of blood on the floor, and the room in chaos. Dishes had been thrown carelessly to the floor, via pulling the white tablecloth from the table. It had left in a train on the floor to absorb the crimson broth of the uneaten meal. Sebastian followed the disorder that had bled into the hallway beyond the dining room; tears at the wall, small droplets of blood on the floor, and a black jacket that had been left in front of the kitchen door.

He pushed the ajar door aside, and saw Ciel, sitting on the countertop, holding a crimson tomato in his hand and mulling it over his lips.

"Did you know, that it hurts just to consider eating something?" Ciel said, his voice abnormally normal, despite his maddening condition, "just sliding my lips over the surface of this feels like it's on fire, though it's so cold, and if I bite down-"

His white teeth barely punctured the surface of the tomato before his whole body exploded in pain, and he dropped the tomato to his side. His head lolled for a moment, before he looked up, his bright blue eye dark with malice as he considered the man standing across the room from him, once again wearing the face of Sebastian Michaelis, statuesque in the twilight, "It feels like Armageddon."

Ciel scoffed for a moment, as he looked down at the tomato, "Temptation and sin... punishment for sampling a forbidden fruit, right?"

Sebastian crossed his arms, crimson eyes upon Ciel's face as the boy raised the tomato up to consider it again, "I asked for you, and now, my punishment for my sins is to watch as you make a mockery of my family's name, wear my ring, address my fiancee, torture me, and wear the face of my dead father."

Ciel slid down slowly from the countertop, as he ran his fingers over the tomato's surface, coaxing the orange liquid to flow from the wound in it's flesh to puddle in his palm and on the floor, "This was quite an entertaining play. I adored all the actors... especially you. You play your part well, there is no greater actor than you, _Lord Bastion Phantomhive_."

Upon the last syllable, Ciel's hand slowly crushed the tomato, splattering his grasp and the floor with it's juices, "You really had me fooled. From the beginning, you played a very convincing demon who seemed to show some compassion for me as a doting butler. You made me believe that I could trust you... that you were more than a ravenous monster, like I initially thought you were. All those soft expressions, those tender moments when you saved my life and acted like you did it out of the kindness of your devoted heart... and now, this wonderful mask of a brilliant noble, who apparently is the illegitimate son of my esteemed grandfather, plagued by his troubled monster of a butler who has murderous intent to anyone who comes within your radius! How this story's been played so well! BRAVA!"

Ciel started clapping, circling Sebastian like a small raven as the demon's crimson eyes followed him; face stoic as he heard Ciel's rant continue.

"Only, when the curtain closes, I know now who you really are... a sadistic, cruel, lying, horrible monster that feeds on the delight of shoving my soul into my own personal Hell. You've anticipated this, didn't you? The moment when you got to see my reaction to everything you use against me in this horrible mockery? Including the theft of my father's face for your disgusting disguise?!"

Ciel then faced Sebastian, his eye baring the unfathomable rage he bore within him, so bright that it could burn away everything he looked upon. Seeing the unfazed expression upon the demon's face, he clenched his fist and brought it down upon that black wall of chest, striking again and again with soft thuds as he cried out painfully, "Is this what you want of me?! Is this the spice that you wanted added to your culinary excursion?! MADNESS?!"

Ciel's fists were barely felt against Sebastian's chest, though he used all his strength in every blow, crying out bitterly as he continued to wale on his master. The pain within him erupted over and over; needles and pins stabbing all over, in every muscle, vein, and organ. His tongue blistered from the feeling, and the pain overflowed and poured out from his clamped eye, sending tears streaming down his pale cheeks. It barely rivaled all the emotion he felt within him, as the haunting visions echoed through is mind in a corrupted blur.

"Oh dear," Sebastian said, calmly, "I'm afraid my little dog's become rabid."

Suddenly, he felt Sebastian move, and the side of his mouth was wiped with a single finger. Ciel became silent, as Sebastian held up his hand, his finger glistening with a crimson liquid. Ciel raised timid, trembling fingers to his lip, looked down, and saw that his mouth was bleeding steadily from the corner. The man then reached for him, fingers grasping the back of his head before he could react, and forced open his mouth with two fingers from his other hand. Though Ciel tried to bite down, Sebastian was too sturdy for him to do so, and he extracted forth something shining and metallic, that made Ciel's eye widen in horror; a pin.

"I think," the demon looked down at Ciel, who's eye still contained the insidious and billowing rage and defiance, "since you remain to be so insolent, I will have to discipline you in a language dogs like you understand."

Ciel twisted, trying to free himself from Sebastian's grip, though he was helpless as a trout caught in a bear's maw. He breathed through clenched teeth, and cried out briefly as the demon bent down to his level, and lightly brushed his lips against his; cold soft tenderness that beckoned Ciel into a realm of nothingness.

------

Quite a dark chapter, and very difficult to write, especially the part with Ciel going mad. There was a longer edition to his rant, but I cut it short and placed it elsewhere in the story further on.

Chapter 12 is coming tomorrow (hopefully), so stay tuned.


	12. Chapter 12: Frelon

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it.

As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, this chapter is quite mature, and contains rather graphic imagery, so please, take this into consideration before viewing.

In case you were wondering; _Frelon_ means _Hornet_ in French.

**-12-**

**Frelon**

Ciel's wrists were held over his head again, and he tugged at the bindings in vain, twisting on the bed as he tried his hardest to free himself. However, his frail body was unable to do much more than cause the sheets beneath him to crumple in disarray, and his body ached all over from the agonizing and relentless sting of the horrible pins, making every limb of his body feel like they were ablaze with Hellfire. The room was dimly lit; the moonlight washed most of the floor and the four poster bed, illuminating Ciel's form, tears pouring down his face as he hung his head in defeat.

** † † † †**

He had woken up while being carried into a room, and immediately pushed out of Sebastian's hold, falling onto the ground like a doll. He scrambled to his feet, and backed away from the demon as he shut the door behind him, locking them both in the room. He stood by the large bay window, quivering with pain and fear as the incubus approached him, crimson eyes glowing in the moonlight.

The room had once been his own. He recognized the four poster bed, adorned with heavy draperies and luxurious sheets, so soft that he had little trouble sailing into dreamland as soon as his head touched the pillows. However, the once warm welcoming bed now felt like a monster of it's own, looming in the darkness, a shadowy figure awaiting it's prey to fall into it's maw.

"Why did you do that?" Ciel asked, voice shuddering in fear and rage, eye trained on the devil in the darkness, "Why would you do that to me? Why my father's face? His ring?"

"All these accusations about this ring," Sebastian held his hand up to show the Phantomhive family head's ring; glinting a dazzling blue in the pale moonlight, "when I know that it's previous owner was not a Phantomhive, but a sailor. How am I possessing such a thing any different from he?"

"It's different!" Ciel shouted, throwing his hands at Sebastian in a frustrated gesture, "How dare you make a mockery of me!"

"And why should I care about you?" Sebastian took a step forward, appearing more menacing than the darkness that wrapped around him like a mantle, "You belong to me. You're nothing more than a pet. A toy. One that I can break easily, if I wish it."

Ciel felt like a mouse, cornered by the black cat that now advanced upon him. Desperate for escape from those cruel eyes, he dashed to the side, but Sebastian caught his wrist with his hand and brought him around to crash against his chest, locking them both into a waltz-like position. Ciel struggled to free himself from the wretched embrace, felling the sickness of memories dancing with Sebastian burn his throat with acid.

"Let me go!" He shouted, twisting in Sebastian's grip.

"Such an insolent dog," Sebastian said, refusing to relinquish his hold on the boy, "so stubborn. I give you candy, you growl. I whip you, and yet you still continue to bite. This is probably the only way I can get through to you just who the master of this house is."

"What are you going to do?" Ciel was answered as Sebastian tossed him onto the bed, pinning his arms above him and affixing them to the headboard's two posts, using a pair of thin metal shackles. Ciel tugged at them in disbelief and hysteria, as his gaze fell on the demon who now loomed above him, crimson corneas trained directly on him as he lay helpless, awash in moonlight.

"I always said this look suits you," Sebastian said, leaning in close and brushing his lips against Ciel's unprotected throat, and causing Ciel to flinch accordingly in disgust, "chained up like the little dog you are."

"You keep referring me to a dog," Ciel spat, squirming relentlessly against the cold metal bracers, "are you too stupid as to not know the difference between human and animal anymore?"

Sebastian laughed, cold and cruel, as he sat up looking down upon the helpless wretch below him, "There is no difference to me. Human, animal... the only difference is the thumbs and legs."

Ciel could feel the overwhelming repulsion as he felt those gentle fingertips skim over his bare stomach, igniting tiny fires under his skin as they travelled. They began to unbutton his shirt, and expose his abdomen and chest, which heaved in unsteady breaths as Ciel bit back the anguish. Those crimson orbs mocked him, as he smiled softly and looked down at the young boy's delicate frame.

"I will show you," Sebastian said, "you have no power over me anymore."

Sebastian lowered his head over Ciel's body, lightly brushing his soft lips over the porcelain flesh. The gentle warmth of youth and life ebbed so beautifully over the boy's body, causing the demon to shudder with anticipation as he breathed it in. How often had he touched that fragile body washing it in the bath? Dressing his little doll for the day? How often had he desired to defile that pure white shell, to leave his mark upon that undisturbed snow? His kisses against the supple flesh grew frequent and hungry, leaving little red marks that blossomed on the snow white flesh.

All Ciel could feel was pain and despair, accompanied with a deep sickness in the pit of his stomach that churned as the demon's lips grazed his skin. He thrashed, though this time, Sebastian had a firm grip on his sides, affixing him down onto the mattress. Ciel's spine curled, as Sebastian's lips enclosed on one of his nipples, suckling on that plum toned bud playfully. One of his hands slid down to caress Ciel's back, coaxing his spine to remain arched, displaying the boy's chest to the air as he sucked at the tender flesh.

Ciel cried out, arms tugging at the metal restraints in an effort to free himself, and struggled against Sebastian's traitorous mouth. His heart pounded like a drum, his breath became quick and ragged, and to his own horror, his pants began to tighten painfully as the demon continued to fondle and suck at his body.

Sebastian then withdrew from torturing the bud, sliding his mouth along Ciel's ribs. The hand that was settled on Ciel's hip went to unbuttoning the boy's pants, removing them effortlessly. Though Ciel cried out in protest, Sebastian smiled, "Seems like I'm breaking your will easily with this method. Your body's become much more obedient."

Ciel's chest heaved with intense pleasure and pain, tears streaming from his eyes as his frustration grew; his body at the mercy of the sadist who caressed him, forcing his body to respond with the most sinful desires, but tearing his soul apart piece by piece. Suddenly, he felt Sebastian's hands abandon their torture to grasp his thighs, spreading them to encircle his own trunk, poising to force the defiant youth into submission.

"Stop!" Ciel shouted, trying to use his legs to stave off the demon, though all was in vain, as he was able to secure himself between them, and Ciel could not escape, with his hands firmly secured above his head. The more he resisted, the more he felt the pins sink deep into his flesh and the cuffs rub his wrists raw, coaxing a painful cry from Ciel's throat again, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows.

_I will show you this body belongs to me._

"I don't want to," Sebastian said, grasping Ciel's buttocks firmly and pressing the boy's body against his abdomen, his own member throbbing against Ciel's supple flesh, threatening the upcoming painful penetration as he slid it against his cheeks, taunting him.

_I can't let this happen!_

Ciel struggled as the blasts of pain echoed through his mind, shattered his senses. The man he trusted, the subtle smiles, the delicate moments of care taking, the moments when he heard his own heart pound uncontrollably in the comfort of his own solitude. All those memories burned away, as Sebastian loomed over him, ravenous. Desperate, he could feel the tears of despair wash down his face as the visions of his gentle care taker held him in such a repulsive way.

_I won't let this happen! I'd rather die!_

"Trying to dominate me," Ciel said through clenched teeth, "Just proves that I'm the man, and you're the animal!"

Sebastian paused, as Ciel shouted again, "You aren't worthy of your hands, you vile thing! I will never call you my master!"

The demon looked up at the boy, who's eyes were filled with agony, pain, betrayal, despair, and streaming glistening tears that looked like a river of stars in the moonlight. A truly beautiful sight, though deep down inside him, he could feel something bite down on his consciousness, and refuse to let go.

"I regret even calling you my butler," Ciel bit viciously, shaking with all the emotion that exploded with a crack in his voice as he continued, turning his voice into a scream, "I regret ever calling you! I regret ever having anything to do with you! How could I ever let you touch me? You disgusting, loathsome creature! I'd rather die then let you touch me!"

No sooner had Ciel made his declaration, did a thin trickle of blood leak from his mouth again, dripping onto the pure white sheets beneath him. The feeling of pins sinking into his flesh was nothing compared to the despair he felt; a deep dark void in his chest, where only fear, desperation, sorrow, and pain resided, as his one azure eye looked at that statuesque face, once considered so beautiful, now stained with the memory of his anguish.

Sebastian remained frozen there. Those crimson eyes staring straight into Ciel's soul, emotionless. Ciel closed his eyes with the overwhelming pain of looking at that wretched face, that gruesome scene below his waist. He turned his head to the side, hopelessly, and felt his tears soak the pillow.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lowered, and Sebastian's hands slipped away from his sides, releasing his naked body. The demon stood up from the bed and walked away from the boy, hand grasping the handle and opening the door slowly, to retreat into the impeding darkness beyond the door frame. The door shut behind him, and Ciel was abandoned in his bedroom, with only the dim moonlight to accompany him.

Ciel cried freely now, feeling the cold air envelope his helpless entrapped body as he remained secured to the bed frame. The salty tears stained his cheeks as they poured forth. He cried out in pain and agony as the memories of what once was flooded and impaled him like needles, one by one.

† † † †

He looked down at his hands, the lingering feeling of Ciel's soft flesh in his grasp still fresh in his mind. He reminisced that carnal desire that had flooded his mind; the need to defile that pure body and render it apart; to dominate that wretched soul that continued to plague him with the guilt of his rightful position. Ciel had sold him himself in exchange for his power, and he had paid his part of the bargain. How many countless people before the boy had fallen to his charge? Why was this soul any different?

The more he contemplated the puzzle, the more he felt his own bitterness fester. As he traveled the darkened hallway, that azure eye continued to haunt him, burning with so much loathing. That eye continued to demand so much of him, resent him, torment him.

He was not Sebastian, the butler. He was a demon; a soul devourer that had released the Black Plague upon humanity, who lived eons prior to humanity's existence, let alone the boy who continued to defy him.

Why had he stopped his training? Wasn't it not what he desired? To see that beautiful face twist into the agony as he fell deeper into Hell? To see that precious hubris shatter upon the rocks as he was lain down like a dog, ferried into despair by the most filthy means possible? Sebastian's head filled with questions directed at himself, though he knew all the answers, and each one felt like a needle in his own flesh, as he shook his head to relieve himself of the truth that gnawed at his mind.

The more he denied the control the boy had over him, the more the space inside his chest continued to ache. He entered his study, the room bathed in moonlight, and closed the door behind him. He rounded the side of the oak desk, and stood before the window, looking out into the pure white world beyond it.

The image of the boy sprawled on the bed, pure white body so fragile, so alluring... yet he could recall the blood that trickled from the corner of his pale pink lips, the starry rivers that flowed down his cheeks, the red wreathes about his wrists beneath the silver shackles that held his hands aloft. He recalled seeing red slashes all up and down those pale arms, and that eye; that wretched pale blue that delved so deeply into his being that it caused him to convulse with repulsion and guilt. The beautiful scene, forever corrupted with the sadistic vision.

Why couldn't he bring himself to finish what he started? Even so, his former master did not look much like himself anymore. Hadn't he taken steps to breaking his loyalty to the little Earl? The once delicate porcelain doll, wrapped in the finest fabrics, fed the finest foods, cared for and containing the unbreakable pride of centuries of nobility; a beautiful specimen and the pinnacle of perfection. Now he was a filthy little wretch; white untidy hair, eye sewn shut with thick black cord, thin from undernourishment, and gone mad with torment... a different appearance, different conditions... yet why did he still hold that irritating resistance to do what he had rightfully earned? Why did he continue to feel the aching need to lift the boy up from his Hell, polish him, and set him back on the silk cushion to which the little doll belonged?

The boy's insolence knew no bounds. He had tried to break his will, to force him into submission, yet the boy persisted with his relentless refusal to obey. Even the contract was not enough to bring Ciel to his knees; the unbearable pain that it unleashed within his body and soul was having little effect on that boy's unbreakable pride. That pathetic pride continued to thrive within the fallen noble, and Sebastian wanted it dead and gone; shattered beyond recognition. He wanted Ciel Phantomhive completely obliterated from the world, and only the hollow shell to remain.

His fingers found the pin in his pocket, and he lifted it up to his eye level, seeing the bright moonlight glint off it's metallic surface.

'_Perhaps it is time to end this pathetic farce_', Sebastian thought, dropping the pin onto the window sill.

Chapter 12. Chapter 13 to arrive sometime tomorrow morning.

This one was the hardest for me to write; honestly, it was harder to picture as it was to document it. Really, really dark moment here; though not the last. Sorry that this chapter is quite short. The next is much longer.

Thanks everyone for reading and for the great reviews!


	13. Chapter 13: Papillon Nocturne

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

To those of you wondering; _Papillon Nocturne_ is _Moth_ in French.

-----------

**-13-**

**Papillon Nocturne**

A lyrical giggle rose Ciel from his dreamless slumber, causing him to search the room for the source. His body ached all over from the relentless pain, but he had long stopped screaming, his voice now raw and barely inaudible as he breathed, "Who's there?"

His gaze fell upon the window sill, where a shadowy figure was perched; legs crossed with leather clad fingers netted at the knee, one leg bouncing in amusement as his crimson hair drifted in the wind beyond the open window.

"Grell," Ciel whispered, before he winced at the new shudder of pain that coursed through his body, spreading to every corner.

"My my my," Grell's voice was laced with excitement and adoration, as his jade eyes took in the beautiful vision; the young boy chained to the bed, snow white body adorned and surrounded with a garnet river of blood, strawberry colored slashes up and down his arms, bracelets of fire that peeked out from under tight bonds encircling his wrists. Truly a rare piece of art that only he could fully appreciate, "Looks like you had quite a party."

Ciel was exhausted, and the most he could will himself to do was tug at the chains in vain, head against the pillows. His dried tears made his face sting and made it feel like plaster; stiff. His pain had continued to erupt at unpredictable intervals, and constantly sent his mind reeling. Though his torment continued to plague him, he did not see Sebastian return since his silent departure.

"You know," Grell smiled, tilting his head to the side, "you can hear your beautiful screaming miles from here. The village people have a rumor going that this place is haunted by the lost son of the Phantomhive family. It's really quite funny, if you think about it."

"A rumor, already?" Ciel breathed, each word like fire in his throat.

"It's been two days since it started," Grell's smile widened, flashing his sharp white teeth menacingly in the moonlight, "your bitter song has been quite a lovely one to the right ears. It's almost a shame it stopped. Though, seeing your current condition, I can see that Sebas-chan truly is an artist beyond all comprehension."

Ciel blinked sadly, looking down at the blood stained sheets below his body, remembering the repulsive scene and forcing him to shut his eye in misery. _Two days_? The memory was still so fresh in his mind; the unbearable pain that exploded throughout his body as soon as Sebastian closed the door, constantly assaulting his body and mind and forcing scream after agonizing scream to erupt from the young boy's throat. The disturbing vision caused his body to recoil, bringing his legs up and huddling in a fetal position as a new string of tears began to roll down the side of his face, dripping onto the pillow once more to blossom like grey flowers on the fabric.

He heard clicks of long heels on the hard wood floor, and the side of the mattress give way to a weight that pressed down on it. He opened his eye slowly to see Grell sitting on the bed, fingers tapping the side of his face as he looked down at him.

"So," Grell drew a small circle on Ciel's hip with his index finger, which Ciel was too exhausted to spur, "still too good to come work for me?"

Ciel was silent for a long moment, knowing only the tides of pain that push and pulled at his consciousness, trapping him in a cycle of agony and misery. A new wave of pain exploded in his head, and he cried out again, pulling at the cold metal restraints and feeling the horrible burn around his wrists from many attempts before. He heard Grell release a giddy chuckle, before he was able to calm down and look up at the Death God again.

A future with the crimson devil... Jack the Ripper; the lover of all things red, the queen of sadists, the harbinger of death and massacre. To become his butler could possibly yield tortures and horrors beyond mortal comprehension, but as Ciel felt Sebastian's curse linger within his veins, the metallic, rusty taste still staining his throat and tongue, and the void in his chest ache with the pain of constant betrayal, he could see no other Hell worse than being anchored to the demon any longer.

"What was that?" Grell held his hand up to his ear, leaning in closer to Ciel's face with a slight smile on his lips.

"I'll work for anyone," Ciel whispered, his throat choked with sorrow and rust, "just free me from this Hell."

"So, you'll work for me?" Grell shifted so that he lay against Ciel's body, one arm over his chest while the other began to paint with his blood along his paper white skin, "Be my own little broken doll?"

Ciel looked upon this new vision; a prediction of his own bloody future. However, the thought beckoned to him, as the crimson Death God continued to trace his fingers over his aching body. _He's not Sebastian..._

"Yes," Ciel whispered painfully, "Free me."

"Alrighty then," Grell's smile spread from ear to ear, looking horrific in the dim moonlight that illuminated the side of his face. He leaned in close to Ciel's face, and planted a harsh kiss against the boy's bloody lips, "A kiss to seal the deal~!"

Ciel's eye then widened in terror, as the Death God stood up over him, brandishing his chainsaw and revving the motor menacingly, eyes aglow with wicked excitement, as he brought it down over Ciel's head. He clamped his eye shut, in anticipation of the fatal blow that would send his head crashing to the floor. He suddenly heard a loud _clang _of metal against metal, and saw a shower of sparks that fell against his skin and fizzled there briefly. Though the tiny burns stung, he suddenly felt the resistance give way immediately, and felt his wrists fall to either side of him, no longer held aloft by the metal chains that secured him.

He slowly brought his arm to his chest, flexing his fingers timidly as he examined his poor raw wrist; bloody from the friction of his tiresome attempts to free himself, the fruit of two days struggling. The sight coaxed a small sob from Ciel's throat, though he swallowed it down to attempt lifting himself up to a sitting position.

His entire body burned and throbbed with fresh pain, and every joint felt like it was made of lead. Simply lifting himself with one arm proved to be more painful than he anticipated, and every movement felt like a pin was stuck in every limb. Grell wasn't much of a sympathizer; every new wave of pain that Ciel endured seemed to cause the Death God to shudder with joy. However, it was better than having him stare at him with those loathsome crimson eyes, and he was grateful for anything that did not share traits with that vile creature that haunted his mind like a shadow.

"He heard you," Ciel whispered softly, his body quivering from the cold and pain, as he collected his ruined shirt and trousers from the cluster of sheets.

Grell shrugged, a devil-may-care smile gracing his lips, "He wasn't home when I showed up. He's probably miles away coming up with new rings of Hell for you."

"It seems I have a cockroach infestation," a cold venomous voice said from across the room, as the door clicked closed. Ciel and Grell turned to see a pair of crimson eyes smoldering menacingly in the darkness of the far corner, as Sebastian Michaelis emerged from the shadows into the moonlight. A bemused smile on his lips as he approached the two males by the bedside. Ciel's eye widened in terror, as he hurriedly pulled his clothes on and backed against the wall, trembling in fear and pain as Sebastian's stare penetrated him to the core; accusing him of his alliance with the meddling Death God that stood unfazed a couple feet away.

"Ah~! Sebas-chan!" Grell smiled happily, lifting a hand in salutations and waving it glamorously, "So glad you could join us!"

"Having a party and not inviting the man of the house? How very impolite of you, Grell," Sebastian's voice was playful, though the undertones held an acidic poison that burned wickedly in the ears.

"Uninvited?" Grell laughed joyously, "You're the guest of honor!"

Suddenly, Ciel heard the chainsaw roar, and with a silver flash in the moonlight, Grell's scythe swiped at the air where Sebastian stood. The demon easily evaded, and caught Grell's wrist, twisting it so that the Death God cried out in pain. Before his wrist snapped, the Death God twisted with it, bringing his chainsaw around to slash at Sebastian's legs. Again, Sebastian evaded the rotating blade, though barely, as a ribbon of black fabric tore free and flitted into the moon beam. The battle continued in the darkness, the sounds of the violent dance loud and ferocious in Ciel's ears. He heard the clangs of metal against metal, the shredding of fabric and flesh. Seeing the door unguarded, he made a break for it, hugging the wall to avoid the invisible roaring weapon that continued to slash up the room.

The door was locked, and Ciel clenched his teeth in frustration and hopelessness as he grappled with it, trying with all his might to wrench the door free. Suddenly, he heard the scream of the saw, and dodged a nearly fatal attack inches from his body. The door gave way to the chainsaw's teeth, though it became lodged for a moment, and Grell had to pull at the chainsaw desperately to free it before something silver flew by and nearly took off his head.

"You dance splendidly!" Grell crooned, turning around with his chainsaw freed and ready to strike, "I could dance all night with you as my partner! "

"How vulgar," Sebastian scoffed, "dancing with a whore like you? Parish the thought."

"Not for much longer~!" Grell smiled, slicing at Sebastian's chest, though something in his hands parried his strike; sending showers of sparks to ignite in the air, "Soon, you'll be begging to be in my presence!"

Sebastian leapt past Grell, catching a fistful of crimson hair in his grasp and pulling down viciously. The Death God lost his balance and fell backwards, narrowly avoiding the live machine as it clattered to the ground next to him, continuing to eat at the air and floor.

"OW!" Grell shouted, as Sebastian stomped down on his chest, grinding his heel against his rib cage, threatening to break it open. The Death God twisted in vain, grasping at the demon's ankles to try to throw off his balance, but Sebastian was too sturdy. The incubus's eyes sparkled wickedly in the darkness that engulfed him, as the feeling of bone beneath his foot began to give way with painful cracks.

Grell cried out in pain again, and tried desperately to reach for his weapon, though it skittered mere inches from his fingertips. Suddenly, he saw something pale run out from the darkness and shove against Sebastian, slightly dislodging his stance on Grell's body.

Ciel pushed with all his might against Sebastian, putting all his rage and energy into one adrenaline fueled shove against that black wall. Ciel's fingers clamped down on Sebastian's coat, as he embraced his trunk, trying to free his only chess piece from under the demon's foot. Though he had little affect in toppling the grown man, he was able to force him to readjust himself, and redirect his focus on the boy who had attacked him.

"Fraternizing with filth now?" Sebastian said, grabbing a fistful of hair on the back of Ciel's head, forcing the boy into a pin against his body again, "What empty promises did you give him in exchange for your freedom?"

"Let go!" Ciel cried, twisting to free himself, and feeling the hair on the back of his neck pull painfully in Sebastian's iron grip, threatening to tear. The blinding pain in his head caused his eyes to see white and red, as Sebastian's face, dark with looming anger, blurred in and out of focus.

A fresh roar of the rotary blade tore through the air, and met flesh in a shower of ruby droplets. Sebastian's eyes widened, as a shallow gnash appeared from his shoulder to his abdomen, and in shock, released the boy in his grasp to touch the wound.

Not pausing for a second to look behind him, Ciel fled to the back of the room, finally able to push the ruined door open and escape into the hallway. The vision of Sebastian wounded and bleeding haunting him, coaxing him to go back and see if he was okay, though the pain inside him that continued to pulsate wickedly, combined with washes of venomous rage, forced him to descend the stairwell and run down into the darkened parlor.

His path was cut short, as Sebastian appeared in front of him, dripping blood on the persian carpet in his wake. Ciel backed away, turning to run back the way he came, but his arm was caught in a vice like grip and he was jerked backwards, falling against Sebastian's chest with a sickening _squelch. _He looked down to see his white shirt, already stained with dried blood, bloom with scarlet blossoms from his shoulder downwards.

Sebastian's lips nearly caressed his ear as he whispered viciously, "_I own you." _

Ciel cried out desperately, trying to free himself from the painful grasp, his sanity screaming in panic, "LET GO OF ME!"

"Abandoning me for another dance partner?" Grell's voice echoed from above, before the sound of the chainsaw revving back to life screamed it's battle cry as the crimson Death God leapt from the upstairs railing and swung his blade at the pair below. To Ciel's horror, Sebastian whirled around, and shoved Ciel forward like a shield. Ciel's eye widened in terror, as the ravenous blades whirled towards his face.

Grell, noticing the switch, pulled his scythe upwards, landing on the floor inches from Ciel's body, and in one fluid motion, reached around the fragile body and stabbed his saw at Sebastian's side, forcing the demon to relinquish his hold on Ciel's arm to avoid impalement. Ciel fell onto the floor, and scrambled to get to his feet, only to duck as the chainsaw blade whirred overhead. He crawled along the rug, fingers pulling at the delicate fibers like ropes on a cliffside to assist his journey. He had to duck and curl up defensively to avoid being stepped on or ripped apart by the sparring partners, as they continued their bloody dance.

"Oooh~! How I love it when you're covered in red!" Grell crooned, slicing at Sebastian's midsection, only to have Sebastian jump back, and repeated the attack again,

"Let's plant more roses on your beautiful body!"

"I tire of your antics, Death God," Sebastian said, as a loud tearing sound resounded throughout the parlor. Grell knew all to well what that sound meant, and smirked.

Sebastian flew from the darkness straight towards him, in his hand holding the remnants of his black jacket. Grell sidestepped and dipped his chainsaw just out of reach, and whirled around, catching Sebastian on the shoulder. A loud grunt of pain echoed throughout the room, as the ripping of cloth and flesh preceded it.

"I've seen that trick already," Grell said simply, tapping the side of his face in taunt, admiring the new crimson splatter that decorated his favorite toy as it shined in the candlelight of the parlor.

Sebastian held his shoulder, feeling it's warm liquid ooze from the two brutal wounds. He stared at the Death God in bewilderment; how was he outperforming him? That obnoxious fool?

He dropped his hand to his side, anger building in his chest at his own embarrassment.

_It ends here..._

He smiled pleasantly, and withdrew a long silver letter opener from his jacket.

**† † † †**

Ciel had taken the opportunity in the midst of the duel to make a dash for the only other door he knew of; picking his way through the chaotic dining room and the hallway, aiming for the kitchen. His footsteps felt heavy and his chest heaved, each breath burning as if laced with poison that continued to scorch his poor throat and lungs. He shut his eye in determination and ran as fast as he could for the fated door, desperate to leave the haunted mansion, to abandon the horrors that continued not two rooms away from him.

Breaking into the kitchen, he rushed for the door, throwing all his weight against it's wooden frame; but it refused to budge. He cursed aloud for his stupidity; forgetting that the door was jammed the first time he tried to use it. He turned around, thinking on how to escape, and remembering the door in the East Wing that he had used to get to the horse stables. He braced himself to double back, when he saw Sebastian standing in the doorway, blocking him yet again, and entrapping him in the limited space with no escape.

In Sebastian's hand, glinted a metallic sliver that caught Ciel's eye as he stood there menacingly like a wild animal about to attack. The air caught in his chest with mortification, as he backed against the jarred door, hand fumbling with the useless knob, as he saw that the silver blade dripped with tears of garnet.

"I'm tired of this game," Sebastian said, taking a step forward, "and I'm tired of you."

Ciel could feel his entire body burn with agony; pain blossoming in his head and fingers as he desperately pounded on the door, trying to dislodge it, "Please, please, please open! Please!" he cried, shoving all his body into the door to open it.

Sebastian was a couple feet from him, and getting deadlier. Ciel could feel all of his senses scream at him; natural instinct shouting for him to flee for his own preservation. The demon closed in on him, now restricting his escape to a two foot radius between the door and the counter. Ciel looked between the door and the demon, before he finally grit his teeth and launched himself towards the counter, ducking down as Sebastian made a grab for him. He careened against the preparation table, and he saw a cluster of liquor bottles that he had left out in his culinary escapades with Grell. _Alcohol_...

He grasped ahold of the neck of one bottle, holding it in front of him shakily towards the demon.

Sebastian's smile grew, and he shook his head in amusement, "Just what do you think you're going to do with that? Bludgeon me?"

Ciel backed up against the stove, feeling the cold iron against his back. He choked back his overwhelming emotions, the unbearable pain of facing off against his traitorous butler, his trusted friend, his fallen master...

"Sebastian," Ciel whispered, feeling his raw throat coax a sob from him as he uttered that name.

He felt all his pain envelope him at once; all blinding and searing, stabbing every particle of his body. He cried out and dropped his weapon to grab his poor head, and it crashed into glass shards on the floor.

Sebastian chuckled darkly, "My, how clumsy of you."

Ciel stared down at the debris of his defense, and up at the stalking demon that now had him pinned against the stove and two counters. His eye then caught sight of the pile of wood near his feet, and the silver cylinder that held the matchsticks for the stove. The irony of his plan coaxed a painful laugh to escape from his throat.

Sebastian paused, as Ciel looked up at him, his one azure eye shining with the light of painful victory, "Maybe this is how I'm supposed to go... you're right... let's end it."

Suddenly, he dove to the ground and grabbed ahold of a match, and tried to strike it against the floor; desperate to ignite the spilt liquor that puddled around their feet.

However, before he could get the match to catch fire, the demon had grabbed ahold of the back of his head, and forced him off the ground. Ciel struggled against him, as he lifted the boy to a standing position, and forced his head to the side, displaying his delicate neck to his captor. Ciel breathed in anguish, pained that his plot had been prematurely foiled, and mortified as Sebastian slid his lips against his throat, his flesh burning intensely from the contact. He felt as if his soul had been set on fire, and he writhed from the feeling, screaming for freedom.

Ciel then felt Sebastian jolt from behind him, and looked up to see a kitchen knife buried in the demon's opposite shoulder, and a black leathered hand wrapped around it, "You messed up my face, you horrible man!"

Grell yanked Sebastian backwards, using the knife as a handle. Ciel twisted free again, and ran out of the kitchen, abandoning the scene as Grell and Sebastian struggled on the counter top.

He could hear utensils being scattered everywhere; bangs of metal and glass shattering on the floor, accompanied with battle cries that echoed throughout the hallway, pursuing him as he fled for the East Wing back door. He grasped the cold metal handle and pushed, and miraculously, the door swung open obediently, releasing him to the frozen outside world.

Ciel headed for the horses, tearing open a gate and grabbing ahold of the first beast he saw. The horse was alarmed, and refused to obey him as he grasped the animal's face and tugged, desperation willing him to do anything to coax his only means of quick transportation from it's pen. Finally, the horse complied, and he led it out, using a box to quickly mount the steed. Grasping two fistfuls of mane, Ciel shouted to urge it to move, and the horse cantered out of the stables and towards the front of the house.

No sooner had he approached the main drive, then a wall of the house exploded, raining debris of brick and wood everywhere. The horse reared, and dismounted Ciel, sending him to a painful crash on the ground, before it tore off down the lane a couple meters.

Standing in the middle of the debris, staggered Sebastian, body torn and bloody from his battles with the now absent scarlet reaper. Ciel's eye widened, and he struggled to get up, though his arm refused to support him; it had been broken from the fall. He stood up shakily, cradling his wounded limb.

Both master and servant stared at each other; surrounded by the heaven of pure white landscape. The long silent eye contact conveyed to either what words could never describe. Ciel could feel every emotion within him suddenly combine into a whirlwind of chaos, before he closed his eye and spun on his heel, making a dash far away from those crimson orbs.

A sharp, piercing feeling erupted in his chest; followed by a metallic sliver that protruded from his left shoulder, in a rain of rubies upon the snowy walk. Ciel's eye looked down at the silver letter opener that had found it's home sheathed in his flesh. His fingers shakily reached for it, before he felt his knees buckle out from under him, and he fell to his side, facing the demon who's arm was raised after hitting his mark.

Sebastian's face was unreadable, as he lowered his shaking hand, before there was a sudden loud roar in the air, and Sebastian cried out as metal sank into his back and slashed up his spine, sending him crashing to the ground below. Grell, bloody from many small slashes over his face, chest, and arms, stood over the demon laughing hysterically as he brought the chainsaw over Sebastian's back over and over, cutting into him.

"Yes! Yes! That's the look I wanted!" He shouted joyously, as he shut off his weapon and held it victoriously up in the air, "Eureka~! My masterpiece is completed!"

Sebastian's crimson eye stared deep into Ciel's blue one; both conveying silently what no words could describe.

Grell jumped down from the debris and where Sebastian lay, and ran up to Ciel's body, pushing it over slightly with the toe of his shoe, "You alive down there?"

Ciel looked up at him, breath shallow and mind awash in endless torrent of pain; blank.

"Good enough for me~!" Grell smiled and reached down, plucking the boy's body up from the bloody snow, "Aww... look at you... Sebas-chan went though all this trouble to make you look so adorable. I should thank him."

He held Ciel up bridal style, the boy's blood trickling onto his clothes and splattering the snow below them as he sauntered over to Sebastian's motionless body, "Thank you for the toy, Sebas-chan. I'll take _very_ good care of him, I promise."

He petted Ciel's head, before turning away, walking down the bloody walkway from the ruined Phantomhive Mansion and it's defeated master as he lay still as a corpse on the remnants of his castle, watching silently as his little doll was ferried away by the filthiest means possible.

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Chapter 13! Actually very fun to write, since to get the proper feel, I listened to a lot of harder music and practiced (YES! PRACTICED!) with my mock up Grell chainsaw (cosplay purposes, hehee) to get a good battle scene.

Chapter 14 will arrive shortly! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Thank you for all your wonderful reads and reviews!


	14. Chapter 14: Cocon

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _Cocon _means _Cocoon _in French.

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**-14-**

**Cocon**

Ciel cried out in agony as the sharp, curved needle wove in and out of his torn flesh, trailing a line of thread behind it that was synched taught upon completion, closing the gaping hole in his shoulder. Ciel's breath was ragged and his voice was barely a rasp, as the torturous patch work continued, the Undertaker smiling happily as he worked.

"It's such a pretty wound," Undertaker crooned with a little chuckle, "Such a shame to have to close it. Why not make it wider? Then we could see the Earl's fluttering little heart."

"Sew it slower!" Grell pleaded, leaning in over the autopsy table that Ciel was lain down upon, "Savor it! Don't waste such a pretty sight! Oh, how I wish I had a camera!"

Ciel was too exhausted from pain, torment, and screaming to bother to shoot a deadly glare at the overexcited Death God. Instead, he lolled his head, absorbing the sting of the cold needle as it continued to sew him back together, and the everlasting eruption of pain that echoed throughout his body from the hole in his lower shoulder.

This tiny series of pinpricks was really nothing compared to the removal of the letter opener that had impaled him, mere inches from his heart. His eye focused on it's deadly glint from the tool tray, and felt a painful sting deep in his chest that was separate from the stitches. He turned his sight away from it, refusing to think about those crimson eyes affixed on him as he was carried away in the arms of Death.

"I'm having trouble comprehending your reasoning for your actions," William T. Spears sat upon a slate grey coffin, legs crossed as he thumbed through a ledger with multiple papers sticking out of it, analyzing the report critically, "You reported that you 'fed him to your chainsaw'. Isn't that entirely what you were told not to do?"

"Arghh," Grell exhaled irritably, rolling his eyes and turning around to shout at the bureaucratic reaper, who's cold eyes were trained on him, expecting a straight forward explanation, "I told you! I only mostly killed him! There was no cinematic record, therefore, he's not dead yet! Why don't you get that?"

"Sebastian's not dead?" Ciel managed to whisper, before wincing again as the needle swooped down and bit into his shoulder.

"Nope~!" Grell smiled, crossing his legs and netting his fingers to cradle his knee, "Otherwise, there'd be no reason to patch you up, doll."

William sighed, "Given these recent turn of events, now that his current conditions have been altered, preparations will have to be made back at headquarters to keep Mr. Phantomhive secure."

The bureaucrat adjusted his glasses as he recited his train of thought; "I suppose our only route from here is to keep him in containment while we continue our sweep for more troublesome devices left over from the angels, and just apply the exchange system should we require the demon's services; namely the boy's soul as payment for Sebastian's cooperation."

"Actually," Grell held up a hand in objection, "We already have made prior arrangements."

"Is that so?" William looked at Ciel for confirmation, and the boy's eye closed solemnly.

"That's right," Grell got up from his seat and rounded the table, before he grasped ahold of Ciel's head and lifted it up, nuzzling him affectionately, "He said he'd come work for me as my little slave in exchange for his freedom from that horrible man ~!"

Ciel groaned, though he was too tired to do more than that. Besides, he had already surrendered to the thought that this was his new Hell, and that he was to remain in it this time, regardless the conditions. He tried to convince himself that anything was better than what he had endured the past few days, but his resolve was being challenged as the new weight of reality began to press down on him, announced by Grell's irritating declarations.

"And how do you plan on supporting him?" William inquired.

"I have that all planned out," Grell stated boldly, flipping his hair with one hand and setting one hand on his hip, "All I need is clearance for my transfer to France, and the Ward."

"The Ward?" William repeated, searching through his papers for a brief moment, "Yes, I suppose that would be a sufficient defense mechanism."

Ciel blinked in interest, and he managed to rasp, "What's that?"

"It's a little toy we have available," Grell smiled, "It blocks one's essence from being detectable by demonic spirits; i.e Sebas-chan."

"However, they're hard to come by," William stated, pen scratching at the ledger, "and though effective, they require delicate care. They must be recharged every night while a Death God sleeps, and since they are incredibly rare and nearly impossible to manufacture, authorization for possession of such an item is exclusive only to management level Death Gods."

"Time to flip over," Undertaker said whilst mid-rolling Ciel onto his stomach, which made a little flip as well, as he felt his front become coated in his own slick blood that had covered the table's surface since the operation began.

Ciel swallowed his nausea and turned his head slightly to the side to look at William again, as the mortician continued to sew the wound in his back closed, "So, Sebastian won't be able to find me?"

"It blocks that connection that he has with you," William recited, not bothering to look up from his paperwork, "If he were to meet with you on the street, he'd see you clear as day, but he could not detect your presence across a town."

Ciel looked down at the table surface in thought; the possibility of never being found was relieving, yet deep down in his core, a small feeling of emptiness festered, replaying the reaper's words over and over. _It blocks the connection he has with you... _

"Alright," William looked up from his ledger, closing it with a quick snap, "Grell Sutcliff, your request for transfer will be accepted, as well as authorization for use of the Ward. However, there are several rules that must be obeyed should it be left in your care."

Grell cheered happily for a moment, until he heard 'rules', and groaned, "Aww... like what?"

"Well, first off," William got up from his seat, "the Ward is a very powerful tool, but it is not without it's defects. For example, should you terminate the boy, his soul would be in direct possession of the demon upon release, thus equalling a massive waste of our resources."

"In other words," Grell tapped his lips in thought, "don't kill him. Got you."

"Also, there is a condition involving breach of pain threshold," William said, "Any excessive amount of pain could cause the soul to resonate and break through the ward's protection. If that happens, the chances of the demon locating the soul will increase dramatically. In layman's terms; you can't go chopping his limbs off."

"What?!" Grell groaned, slumping his shoulders and pouting, "Jeez, Will! You're draining all the fun out of this!"

"Also," William adjusted his glasses once again, "I advise you also adopt some sort of alias, since you insist you will be going public."

"Hmmm...." Grell paced about in thought, stroking his chin with his gloved fingers as he contemplated a name, before glancing down at Ciel and seeing the azure eye trained on him, baring a little warning that tickled him to defy, "I know! Madamoiselle Rouge!"

He giggled as Ciel made a sharp inhale in response, and smiled, teeth glinting with mischief, "You know you love it, and we'll call you Ciel Blanc! Cute, right~?"

"I'll let you work such minor details on your own time," William sighed, "that being said, once our search period is over, what happens to the boy is entirely up to you, since he will be left in your custody. Until then, I advise that you follow the conditions set."

William turned and grasped ahold of his scythe, which was propped up against the wall near the door, before he turned to address the mortician, "Undertaker, will you supply them with the one currently in your possession? It has been a while since you last reported using it."

Undertaker smiled broadly and laced his bloody fingers, leaning his cheek upon them, "I would be delighted... in exchange for the world's grandest smile!"

William did not hear his condition, for without so much as a farewell, he had exited the shop, leaving behind the three to continue with Ciel's repair, and Undertaker without his payment. Shrugging, the mortician returned to his work and continued to sew the little doll's back closed, humming happily to himself as he worked.

Despite the obnoxious sounds around him, and the on-going pain echoing throughout his body, Ciel lay with his head against the table, meditating on the events that had led him to his current bloody state. His heart felt heavier than a monolith in his chest, as he recalled the black and red massacre upon the Phantomhive Mansion's ruined walkway. Those deep crimson eyes staring back into his as the incomprehensible pain resonated within the two of them, as if carried on the magnetic pull that linked them both together through each other's gaze. Those two eyes had burned themselves deep into his memory, and refused to submerge beneath his trauma.

No longer able to take the overwhelming amount of pain in his mind, body, and soul, Ciel closed his eye and sought sleep.

Grell, noticing that the boy had dozed off, smiled mischievously and leaned down next to his ear to whisper rather wickedly, "Sleep like the dead tonight. because you won't be getting another chance anytime soon~!"

† † † †

A baby's crying stirred Ciel from his slumber.

Disgruntled by the rude awakening, Ciel murmured sleepily, "Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

When the crying persisted, he opened his eye in irritation to a black cover of night within the mortuary. There was a faint light of a single candle flickering from a far off table that slightly illuminated his surroundings, and he looked around him to see that he had been lain to rest within the walls of a child sized coffin. He looked down at his body, and noticed that all of his wounds had been tended to; his broken arm was set with a splint and cast, his chest was bandaged several times over, and his arms were woven like a mummy with sleeves composed entirely of bandages that wrapped around his wrists and stopped at the shoulders.

He used what was left of his energy to push himself up to a sitting position, and looked around the oblique shop for signs of life. Following the sound of the hiccuping cries of the infant, he wandered groggily into the back room, stumbling around in the dimly lit space, and navigating the tables and coffins lying on the floor, until the source of the noise lay directly in front of him.

On a little table lay an infant sized coffin; pink and white, that held a bundle of blankets that wiggled spontaneously in the lamplight. Ciel reached with his hand to lift up one of the corners, to reveal that little oval face, eyes clamped shut as it cried and reached out at him for comforting.

Ciel, still drained from the aching pain spreading throughout his body, lay against the table, fingers drumming on the side of the tiny coffin, "You woke me up. Stop crying."

When the infant didn't obey, Ciel sighed heavily and reached in to lightly brush a soft warm cheek with his fingertips, whispering sweetly, "Shhhhh... shhhhh."

The infant began to settle a little upon the contact, and Ciel patted her little body with his hand gently, "There, there... hush now."

He looked around sleepily in the darkness, and noticed that there was an usual absence of noise within the eerie shop. Unable to know exactly what time it was, Ciel gathered that the others either had slunk off to bed, or to perform some other duties that he didn't care to meditate upon. He sighed, looking down at the abandoned infant below him, "I can't believe they left you alone. How irresponsible."

As if in response, the baby began to cry again, flailing in her swaddling clothes. Ciel continued to soothe her, hushing her softly, as he tried to recall anything he could use to help him. Taking a dive through the countless corrupted memories laced with pain and hate, Ciel was able to unearth a lingering lullaby that he recalled hearing his own mother whisper to him when he was a small child, and when she was still breathing.

"_Hush little baby, don't say a word, I'm going to buy you a mockingbird, and if that mockingbird don't sing, I'm going to buy you a diamond ring, and if that diamond ring turns brass, I'm going to buy you a looking glass, and if that looking glass gets broke, I'm going to buy you a pretty coat, and if that pretty coat does tear, I'm gonna buy you a little hare, and if that little hare does flee, you'll still be sweetest baby to me.._. "

Ciel's eye widened as he looked down to see her little fingers wrapped around his, little robin's egg blue eyes staring up at him, shining gently in the firelight, completely content. He remained there, looking down at the little child, and felt a deep pang of empathy; the child lay abandoned, crying in the dark, without her real mother or father, and in the care of a psychopathic and irresponsible reaper. They had a common bond, and as he looked down at her, he felt a bitter claw of cold reverberate through his spine, forcing him to shiver violently. He pulled back from her tiny grasp to rub his arms, and whispered, "It's cold. That's why you're crying, right?"

He looked around him, before he reached in with one arm, maneuvering the best he could to safely lift the infant from it's morbid cradle, and support it in the crook of his arm (and with a little assistance of his broken limb, despite the little beats of pain that it wrought on him). Quietly, he walked away from the back rooms, and into the parlor where he originally lay, though he opted for a wider casket closer to the flickering candle. Pushing the lid away from it with his foot, he knelt down and lay the tiny child upon the silken bedding, before climbing in next to her, hugging the little bundle of cloth and body heat close to him.

Ciel's gaze lingered on the infant, as she slowly slipped off into dreamland, grasping his finger again tightly. As he lay there in the coffin, a lingering memory emerged from the ocean of his mind; one upon a fated sea vessel, featuring an unfortunate fool, who gave his life in an effort to preserve his...

_"You have your chance to obtain your future," Abberline whispered with his dying breath, as he looked down upon him, watching helpless as the policeman slowly succumbed to the mortal wound in his abdomen, "Don't forget this."_

_ "I don't have a future," he remembered saying, as the kind fool slipped away, "I used it to exchange--" _

"I don't have a future," Ciel whispered, "... but I'll help you shape yours."

Ciel remained looking upon the little baby, before he felt the hand of Sleep slowly close his eye, and he fell deep into unconsciousness.

† † † †

The misty shipyard was crowded with an endless sea of people; sailors, soldiers, merchants peddling their wares to arriving and departing passengers, and Ciel found himself caught up in the midst of it all, trying to navigate his way towards the dock to which the boat scheduled for departure to France was stationed. When he finally made a little progress, a swarm of people swept him away, and he retreated against the side of a building, trying to avoid being trampled by the hurrying masses. He slid down to sit against the wall, vexed. Tied around his neck, along with his arm sling, was a sling containing his only precious cargo; little Dahlia, who began to cry from the jerky movement that she had to endure. Ciel bounced her, trying to comfort her as he tried to get his bearings.

Suddenly, somebody tossed some coins at his feet. He looked up and shot a deadly glare, "I'm not homeless, you prat. Save your stupid charity!"

However, the philanthropist had disappeared into the legion of people, and Ciel sighed, bending down to pocket the money, figuring it better than to let it go to waste. Before long, he heard an irritating shout from the swarm, and looked up again to see his own Queen Bee making a bee-line for him; crimson hair done up and shoved under a scarlet feathered hat, and red jacket buttoned up half way; his insistence on a proper disguise. His arms were crossed in irritation as he stood over the boy.

"Taking a break? We have a boat to catch!" Grell said, tapping his foot on the ground in irritation, "Or do you want Sebas-chan to come out of that alleyway behind you and snatch you up?"

Ciel looked up at him cynically, unfazed by the childish threat. However, instead of arguing, he worked his way up to his feet, though he looked quite clumsy, using his broken arm to support the sling that held the baby while using his good arm to inch him up the side of the wall. Grell rolled his eye and grabbed ahold of Ciel's wrist, pulling him after him in a huff.

"God, you're so incompetent," he heard him mutter, as they broke through the horde of people easily, Grell pushing them aside while shouting, "COMING THROUGH!"

The boat loomed in the foggy harbor, and as Ciel and Grell were permitted to board, Ciel could feel the emptiness get larger, as he was barely able to make out the outlines of his homeland as he stepped up the ramp. Once on board, he went over to the rail of the starboard, looking at the docks, the buildings, and the blankness that lay beyond that his mind's eye filled in with the appropriate memories. In a way, he had an annoying feeling that he was abandoning his homeland; a coward. However, as he glanced down at the Ward that adorned his neck; a symbol shaped from delicate glass, attached to a silver chain and embraced by two silver emblems, he felt the overwhelming need to leave England faster than fate would allow, before he succumbed to the urge to seek out the aftermath of the events at the Phantomhive Mansion.

As soon as the trinket had brushed his skin, he had felt a sudden hollowness rise within him; an absence of something that felt so crucial to his existence, he could almost feel his heart stop for a brief moment. However, the feeling of pins was gone entirely, and only the dulling pain of his many physical wounds continued to bother him.

Escape would never be an option. Despite his predicted madness he was going to endure living with the crimson devil that possessed him, he was now aware of two things; one, that the Ward had to be recharged every night in Grell's grasp, and two, that he had to be within a fifty foot radius of the Ward during recharging, or he would be detectable. Any slight opening could render the Ward useless, and so, he would have to obey all the terms and conditions the Death Gods established, or loose the game completely. Not one to ever admit defeat in a game, Ciel sighed and accepted his fate.

"What are you looking at?" Ciel didn't bother to turn as a black clad hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he felt Grell's chest against his back, "It's all foggy, you can't see anything! Come on, let's go to our cabin."

As the sound of the boat's horn blared out over the bay, and the ship pulled out of the harbor and set out for it's destination, Ciel mentally whispered a farewell to his homeland, before turning and following his new master.

† † † †

Ciel had slipped away from the path towards the cabins, and navigated to the cargo bay, where he could be alone (despite the fact he had a passenger). He settled down behind a crate, and laid his head back against the ropes that bound it, looking down at little Dahlia who lay sleeping and secure against his chest.

As night closed in, the cargo hold started to get cold, and he shivered. He almost considered going back to the warm cabins, though the earful he would receive from Grell, and the pleasant rare moment of solitude, convinced him to endure the temperature. He did worry for Dahlia, and decided to wrap her in the coat that he had worn, sacrificing his own heat for his little mistress.

He huddled in a ball, clutching her to his chest, until he heard a small _'meow' _echo throughout the cargo hold. He looked up to see a sleek black cat perched high above on top of a crate, looking down at him. Remembering a cat assisting him once before in the shipyards of a French harbor, he held out one shivering hand to coax the cat down to his level. The cat ignored his call, and he let his hand fall to his side, annoyed.

"Stubborn creature," Ciel scoffed, before returning to his curled up pose, hiking his knees up closer to his chest, and closing his eye in an attempt to sleep.

Suddenly, he heard the cat's meow again, this time closer, and he opened his eye a little to see the cat sitting next to him, waiting patiently, tail swinging back and forth.

He reached one hand out slowly, though he did not look at the animal. He felt little warm breaths against his fingertips, before he felt a cold little nose brush him, followed by luxurious fur and stiff whiskers. Shifting his head a little so that his eye fell on the content cat's form, he caressed the cat's soft coat; over the ears and along the spine. Though the animal appreciated the contact, it did not purr. However, when Ciel abandoned the petting to resume his position, the ebony creature curled up against his hip in a ball, it's little body offering a small fraction of solace to Ciel's aching heart.

"Thank you," he whispered, before he closed his eyes and fell asleep, as the ship bound for France continued sailing into the night.

-----------

Chapter 14 took a little more time than planned; sorry! Chapter 15 to arrive soon!

So a couple new developments, setting up the stage for our next series of chapters, though nothing extraordinary, really. Sorry.

Oh, and to add: _Madamoiselle Rouge_ is basically Madame Red (just unmarried). Picked expressly because it would annoy Ciel most. _Blanc_ means White. So, White and Red. Grell lacks imagination (or I do).

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews, and I hope you continue to read "His Butler, My Master"!


	15. Chapter 15: Chien

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering; _Chien _means _Dog_ in French.

--------

**-15-**

**Chien**

At exactly 2:46 a.m, Jean Claude Alain tore out of his two story townhouse to flee down the darkened streets of Paris; his only goal his self preservation, as the ravenous roar of a handheld machine echoed close behind him. The man was lanky, and well into his 40's, but his legs carried him swiftly though the misty lanes, fueled by fear and pure adrenaline. The man rounded corner after corner within the dark labyrinthian alleyways, his lungs burning with the cold air and loss of breath. Placing all his faith in his own aching limbs, he hurried as fast as he could, praying that the wicked being that pursued him, drenched all in red like the Devil himself and laughing maniacally, would loose his trail.

He dared not to look behind him, as the sound of the whirring blades and clicking heels upon the cobblestones began to fade as he wove around corner after corner. Before long, the beastly machine was silent, and he smiled in relief as he ran around the edge of a brick building. He flattened himself against the wall, and clutched his chest, his lungs begging for air and forcing him to gulp the oxygen greedily.

Suddenly, he heard a sharp whistle, and he looked around, startled, as he heard almost silent footsteps approach from the darkness within the opposite alleyway.

From the shadows appeared an apparition; a specter dressed completely in pure white, with snow white hair and fair delicate skin. The only color that graced the ghost lay in one strikingly sapphire eye that remained half lidded and solemn as he approached the shaking man. Though the man gasped for air, he nearly cried out in horror, as the white figure stood before him.

"W-What do you want of me, ghost?!" Jean Claude stammered, clutching his heart. He contemplated the young man that stood before him, lean bodied, beautiful and fragile in appearance, elegantly garbed, and whispered, "Are you the angel that comes for my soul?"

The boy's lips seemed to curve into a very slight smile, as that azure eye bore a playfulness that seemed to dance in the darkness, though he remained silent. The silence seemed to burn Jean Claude to his core, and that blue gaze pierced into his soul, chilling him to the bone.

Another sharp whistle was sounded, and the playfulness disappeared, his eye narrowed again, and he raised one of his hands.

Before the specter was able to perform whatever task it intended, Jean Claude ran forward and shoved him back, running off into the darkness from which the ghost had appeared. The boy turned, and followed after him.

Jean Claude could feel his heart trying to burst from his chest, his legs begging for rest, yet his fear urged him onwards. He could not hear the footsteps of either the specter, nor the devil, yet he prayed to God that he'd survive the night. Suddenly, something pulled taught on his ankle, and his body lurched forwards, his knees, palms, and side of his face striking the pavement with a loud thud. He could feel his nose bleeding from the fall, and he struggled to sit up on his knees, looking down to see the red splatters that descended from his face and the gnashes along his palms. He rasped in panic, before he turned around and saw the ghost emerge from the shadows of the alley again, this time hurrying forward, grasping both of his wrists, twisting them behind his back, and clamping iron shackles around both of them. The man tried to beat off the specter with his body and stagger to his feet, but the boy was able to secure both of his legs, clamping another pair of shackles around his ankles. The man squirmed, and the spirit grasped ahold of a wire that was wrapped around the man's leg (a trick that had cost the man his balance), and looped it around the chain that secured Jean Claude's wrists, so that the poor man fell upon the ground, helpless as a caterpillar.

His work done, the boy stood up and backed away from the fallen captive, before a wicked giggle echoed from the alleyway behind him. The suffocating shadows yielded to a man garbed in deepest red, hair floating behind him like scarlet banners as he approached his prey. In his hand, slept the infernal machine that had pursued him down the streets of Paris, which the devil drummed his fingers along as he sauntered up to Jean Claude, red and black high heeled shoes clicking on the ground like the sounds of a clock's ticking the seconds to his death.

"That was quite a run!" the devil smiled, and to Jean Claude's horror, revealed jagged, horrifyingly sharp teeth that glinted menacingly in the moonlight overhead, "If it weren't for my little puppy, I don't think I would have caught up with you!"

The wicked creature turned to tickle the small specter under the chin playfully, but the ghost gave him an irritated frozen glare, and the devil flipped his hair in jest, "If you wouldn't mind bracing him, love?"

The man's eyes widened in terror, as he shouted and pleaded; the ghost left his statuesque post to grab ahold of his bound hands, pulling him up to a kneeling position on the ground. He begged, eyes filling with desperate tears as he struggled helplessly against the iron binds and delicate hands that held him up.

Suddenly, he heard a soft voice whisper against his ear, "Just accept it, Jean Claude Alain. You are already dead. You died in your own bed of a heart attack."

The man refused to believe the condemning words, and thrashed violently, tossing his body backwards in attempt to dislodge the boy who held him stationary. His desperation exhilarated, as he heard the infernal machine scream to life, the rotary blades glinting evilly in the moonlight as they were brought over the devil's head, a wild and carnal joy shining brightly in those green eyes.

A white, soft wall of flesh then covered his eyes; those slender fingers blinding him from the terrors before him as the man continued to sob, struggle, and beg for release.

The devil's voice erupted in a shrill cruel laugh, and Jean Claude into a piercing scream, as the chainsaw came down upon him; a torrent of crimson splaying forth in gushes, as the hungry blades bit into his torso, tearing him apart. His ribcage and spine yielded to the metallic teeth with sickening cracks, and his blood pooled down upon the cobblestone streets of Paris, soaking everything around the trio in a crimson tide.

The chainsaw tore it's way through the stubborn flesh, until Grell finally ripped it out from the corpse, a wave of blood trailing after it and slathering the wall beside him.

Ciel slowly opened his eye, and released the severed torso from his grasp, letting it fall to the ground with a sickening _splurch_. He remained silent, as he knelt down and slowly closed the dead eyes of Jean Claude Alain with the tips of his fingers. Standing up, he sighed heavily.

"Don't you just love Dying Day~?!" Grell cheered, twirling on his heel as he admired the mantle of deep scarlet liquid that dripped down the front of his garment and coated his deadly toy, before he looked up at Ciel, smiling wickedly, "And look at you! I love it when you're my canvas, love."

He sauntered up to the boy, grasping a fold of the long coat that Ciel wore; a very elegant double breasted white jacket, with delicate lace along the trimming, and a white undershirt that ruffled at the collar and sleeves, held closed by a white silk ribbon. The outfit's primary feature was now a massive red stain that slathered over his torso, midsection, and shorts, branching out in veins as Jean Claude's blood was absorbed by the fabric.

"Mmm~!" Grell purred as he looked up from his inspection of the outfit, "You look absolutely adorable! It's such a lovely splatter pattern."

His eyes glistened as he ran a hand through Ciel's hair, which was speckled with red beads, matting it as he tousled the colorless locks, "Mmm... sexy. You should come reaping with me more often!"

"If that were the case, I'd never get any work done," Ciel commented coldly, grasping ahold of Grell's wrist with his thumb and index finger, and lifting it from his face, "That being said, I want to go home."

Grell's smile fell into an irritated frown, and he stood up, crossing his arms, "You're no fun."

"Fun is a waste of time," Ciel said, closing his eye as if punctuating his statement, before he took a few steps past the reaper, "Especially with the completely cluttered schedule you have me on. I'll have to forgo sleep tonight thanks to this, and I have a massive list of things to do."

He narrowed his eye at his sadistic master, as he walked up to him, and began walking his fingers up the boy's chest, pulling the ribbon that wound about his neck until it came free and slid away.

"You know Ciel," Grell purred, wrapping the ribbon about his fingers flirtatiously, "You grew up quite nicely... I mean, you're no Sebas-chan; you haven't grown much in height, and your face still has that boyish quality, but you are quite the little heartbreaker, what with that cold interior and exterior all drenched in blood. Just like the day you chose to join with me... remember?"

Ciel took a step back, "I'd prefer it if you'd keep your imaginings to yourself, thank you."

Grell smirked, before bending down and taking Jean Claude's heart from the pavement, dusting it off, and wrapping the silk ribbon around it, tying it into a little bow. The fabric blossomed into a deep crimson, as the heart's contents dribbled against it. Grell held it to his chest and smiled, tilting his head to the side, "Come on, doll! I'm giving you my heart here."

"Keep it," Ciel said, pushing past the annoying Death God, "I already have your housework and finances."

Suddenly, he felt a deft thud against the small of his back, and a loud _squelch_. He seized up in nausea as he felt a warmth blossom along the back of his jacket. He turned around to see Grell smiling, as innocently as his devilish exterior allowed, before Ciel's gaze met the ground. Jean Claude's severed heart lay unceremoniously on the ground in a puddle of blood.

"Your outfit was missing a certain flare," Grell said, giggling behind his hand, "You have a lovely rose on your back now."

Ciel stared at him, his hand balled up in a fist, knuckles white and shaking, desiring nothing more than to unleash his repulsion upon the whole ordeal upon his master's face, but the will to do so faded, as he glanced the poultice that once was Jean Claude under his feet. The perpetual nausea flooded him, and he clamped both eyes closed, lifting one hand to cover his mouth and gulping the rising acid the best he could.

"Today," Grell stalked up to Ciel's side, before he knelt down and plucked up the fallen organ at his feet, and fiddling with the bow, "you will be wearing this lovely outfit to RedGrave. Show those people just who is the genius behind their wages."

"Which is you, I take it?" Ciel said, his tone settled in the subarctic, as he felt the biting annoyance of his own credit being stripped from him.

Grell slipped the now scarlet ribbon around Ciel's neck, pulling the boy's face inches from his own, "But of course, my sweet little doggy. Now, be a good boy and trot along home, but not before you give me a goodnight kiss~!"

He leaned in to kiss Ciel upon the lips, but the boy turned his face to the side, so that his master's lips only grazed the side of his cheek. Grell gasped angrily, but Ciel pushed away, turning to run down the alleyway before his master could throw a childish tantrum.

"Hmph," Grell scoffed, placing his hands on his hips and muttering to himself aloud, as he heard the sound of the boy's footsteps slowly fade away, "I'm too easy on that boy. He needs an attitude adjustment."

The Death God then spun on his heel and walked off down another alleyway, towards his favorite late night pub, leaving behind the scattered remains of Jean Claude Alain smeared upon the cobblestone streets of Paris.

† † † †

Ciel sighed heavily, feeling the bitterness of the cold night air chill him to the bone. His dampened jacket and shorts offered no comfort; their grisly condition biting into his flesh as the warmth was whisked away and replaced with a disgusting sticky, cold feeling. The ribbon, once so smooth, now crinkled with caked blood. The blood shed by Grell's chainsaw seemed to maintain a perpetual scarlet, but that did not deviate from the fact that it made his clothes as stiff as paper, and as he walked the streets, he was not surprised that a couple stray people on the street did not shoot him a second glance.

Since their coming to France, Grell had put Ciel to work; funding a company that was founded on one of Grell's many passions: beauty. Thus, RedGrave was born, beginning in cosmetics, before bleeding off into other areas, like perfumes and fashion. Ciel had become somewhat of a walking poster child of RedGrave's success, always garbed in something red and overly elegant for his position; a macabre doll for his 'mistress'. As he aged, his outfits became more and more violently constructed, and the birth of 'Dying Day' arrived: a day when he was to accompany Grell during his 'work'. Most of these excursions resulted in him being plastered in the victim's blood and forced to walk home. Though it was real blood that coated his attire, the fashion victims of Paris were so overwhelmed by the violent intensity of the latest revelation of Madamoiselle Rouge, that it was not uncommon for Ciel to hear praise or terms of exhaled adoration for his latest outfit.

As he predicted, Grell had plunged his psyche so far into this crimson Hell, that he was losing himself to the feeling of the blood against his skin. Though the victims were already destined to die by the Book of the Dead, Ciel could still feel the sickness rise in his throat every time he held the struggling victims up for Grell to sever their ties from this world. Many times, he hoped that the teeth of the chainsaw would accidentally slice his own chest open, so that he could escape from the horrors that he had to endure, but alas, Grell's aim had improved. Ciel continued to relive every day in bloody massacre, dying screams, cluttered schedules, stubborn bloodstains, financial juggling, wretched advances, assaults on his virtue, and never-ending housework for six long years.

Deep in meditation of his horrible predicament, Ciel paused as he heard a _bang_ resound next to him. Startled, he looked up to see a trash can, and perched on top of it, a lanky ink black cat, staring back at him patiently.

Ciel exhaled, scoffing at his own skittishness. Head up, eye focused up ahead instead of the small feline, he addressed it as he walked by, "Good evening Othello."

The cat did not offer a greeting back, nor did Ciel expect it to. It continued to sit, tail slowly swinging back and forth behind it like a metronome, eyes trained on the white and red ghost as he walked past. The small creature had followed Ciel off the boat once it arrived in the harbor, and remained with him since, though opting to remain a feral creature than domestic. Ciel considered it best, regardless, since Grell had an ongoing hatred of the cat, for it often objected to any advances the Death God made to it, by swiping or hissing at the hand that reached for it.

Ciel continued walking the street, heading towards the darkened manor that loomed at the end, embraced by wicked black wrought iron fence. At his ankles, he felt a warm body brush against his leg, and he glanced down to see Othello walking next to him.

"Coming in today?" Ciel asked, his voice somewhat distant as he stared at the tomb-like house he called his home. The cat remained silent, but as if in answer, trotted up ahead, to curl up on the doorstep, waiting expectantly for the door to open. Ciel reached into his pocket and pulled out a black key, walking up to the door and unlocking it with a loud _click_. He pushed the door open, and Othello slunk into the house, to disappear into the darkness beyond the entry way.

Ciel locked the door behind him and trudged silently upstairs for a bath. Though the hallways were oblique, his many journeys up and down those many stairwells and halls made his path clear as day. He reached the end of the hallway, and pushed the bathroom door open with his shoulder.

Exhausted from the events that had devoured his day and dreading the coming of the next, Ciel started up the bath, turning the heat up as far as it could go. He caught a glance of himself in one of the gaudy mirrors that surrounded the bathroom, and walked over to it, staring at himself long and hard in the mirror as the steam poured from the bath behind him

A young man stared back at him, though he still maintained boyish features; lean, slender frame, small shoulders, and delicate limbs, though he was a bit taller than before. His hair had grown a little since he had last cut it, and easily covered his stitched eye, hiding his repulsive feature from the world.

What depressed him, was that due to that nights' escapades, his face was speckled with a fine scattering of blood droplets, and his white hair was matted with streaks of deep garnet. His entire outfit resembled a massacre upon the snow, and it sent chills straight to the pit of his stomach, and slowly forced the hollowness within his heart to ache with the pain of memory. He slowly peeled his garment off, layer by layer, placing each one carefully on the hooks that adorned the black full body mirror before him. As he pulled his undershirt off, he glanced at the grotesque scar that resided on his shoulder, inches from his heart. Timid fingers went up to that spot, touching it gingerly as if the six year old wound was fresh from the day before. He winced, recalling the flood of memories that assaulted him, before letting his hand fall away and continue to unclothe himself.

His body remained blood on the snow, even depraved of all covering, except the fragile Ward that adorned his neck, to never be removed unless in the possession of Grell. Ciel stared at the pale wretch that stood before him, and crossed his arms, hugging his chest, as if to stay off the cold, though he knew deep inside what continued to fester and burn. He shook his head vigorously and walked over to the bath, halting the water flow and sliding into the scalding water with a couple hisses, before settling down and letting his head recline against the lip of the porcelain tub.

_6 years..._

Ciel's eye remained half lidded as he stared off at himself in the mirror that lay directly ahead of him, reflecting the pitiful person that lay in the water, feeling the sting of the burning water, yet enduring the pain. Ciel submerged most of himself underwater, except for his face above his mouth, and contemplated the things that made up his life thus far.

In the past years, he had gone from a happy son of the Earl of Phantomhive, to the Earl of Phantomhive; Queen's Watchdog and shepherd of the Underground, to Ciel Phantomhive; slave to his own demon, and now Ciel Blanc; the butler of the Red Death. Each persona more wretched than the last; each one pitiful and twisted. Now, at the end of the metamorphosis, Ciel, 18 years old and covered in Jean Claude Alain's blood, soaked in a bath that slowly became rusty and rose-colored as time passed.

Finally, he couldn't stomach the pain anymore, and he brought his legs up to his chest, holding his head in his hands as he let the pain of his memories soak in where the blood drained away.

Ciel scrubbed viciously at his own skin to remove the evil splatters, lathering his hair with several potions of soap before he was able to remove all the blood from his locks, with a fierce desperation to be absolutely sanitized. He drained the tub of its sinful liquid, and crawled back in again to splash the remainders of the bloody water from his body under the faucet.

He suddenly heard a _hiss, _and looked up to see Othello at the windowsill, glancing down and clawing at something beyond the board it somehow became perched upon. Ciel then heard a loud whisper, "Shut up, you mangy cat!"

Ciel wrapped a towel around his waist and walked over to the window, looking down to see his 'mistress' hanging by his fingertips from the windowsill. Othello continued to strike at the fingers, but Ciel picked the black cat up from the sill and to place him down upon the bathroom's tiled floor, out of his way.

"Why don't you use the front door, like a normal person?" Ciel inquired cynically, not bothering just yet to assist the 'damsel in distress'.

Grell looked up at him and growled, "How dare you mock me?! Lift me up right now, or I'll make sure you get your fingers hammered to that board, you hear me?!"

The boy shook his head, before he reached down and pulled with all his might on Grell's arm. The Death God clambered in through the window, and dusted himself off, before noticing the condition of the bath, and the now once again blank slate that his 'canvas' had become.

Grell clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Why did you go do that for? You looked so sexy, and now it's all ruined."

Ciel glared at him, before he reached down to his neck and slipped the Ward off over his head, wordlessly handing it out towards the Death God, who's eyes continued to flick over the half naked young man, as if contemplating just how easy the situation was. Distracted by the shining trinket, Grell scoffed and snatched the glass bauble out of Ciel's grasp, despite the gasp of objection Ciel released at the Ward's careless handling.

"Passive way of telling me to go to bed," Grell said, tilting his head to the side and smiling seductively, "I'll go if you accompany me~!"

Ciel opened his mouth to unleash one of the many insults that came to mind, but closed it again, and silently walked past the enamored idiot, remembering to retrieve his outfit from the hooks on the mirror, little cat following at his heels as he closed the door behind him, leaving Grell alone and unsatisfied in the bloody bathroom.

**† † † †**

Making sure the door was locked behind him, Ciel entered his small bedroom, which was furnished with a desk, chair, a bedside table with a lamp, a medium sized bed, a single window, an armoire, and a mirror. All of the furnishings were either cherrywood or ebony, and Ciel carefully hung up his jacket, shirt, and shorts within the large armoire, cautious of getting the foul stain upon anything else. He walked over to his bed, and as Ciel pulled back the midnight covers, he felt Othello jump up onto the mattress, curling up at the foot of the bed and watching him intently.

"Goodnight, Othello," Ciel whispered, as he laid his head down against the stiff pillow, with the intention of only sleeping for an hour, to at least recharge his own ability to perform, before returning to his work. As he pulled the covers over his own form, Ciel did not anticipate the dreams that he was going to have. Dreams reflecting upon the mortifying last moments of Jean Claude... the blood soaked garment of Ciel Blanc, butler of Madamoiselle Rouge. Despite his hesitation to dream, Sleep claimed him almost immediately, and Ciel drifted off into a dream filled sleep, only, they were not plagued by chainsaws and earth shattering screams. No, these dreams contained only one feature that burned him deep within his soul and made him writhe: crimson eyes.

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And Chapter 15; Chapter 16 to follow shortly!

So, we have Part 2 now; a 6 year jump has occurred, and now we have a somewhat older Ciel, who's years of working under Grell has left him, well... you'll see how it'll be as chapters go just how well he may (or may not) have faired.

Thank you for reading, and for those ever so wonderful reviews!


	16. Chapter 16: Mégère

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it.

As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, this chapter contains mature elements, so please, take this into consideration before viewing.

In case some of you may be wondering; _Mégère _means _Shrew_ in French.

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**-16-**

**Mégère**

Deep in the depths of his dream, Ciel was roused to waking by the soft caress against his cheek. His eye slowly opened to the small room, which was doused in a heady beam of moonlight. His blurry vision roved from the white washed window, to a figure that stood by his bedside, gazing down at him, still and expressionless as a statue, and as constant as the day he was left amongst the rubble of the Phantomhive Mansion; dressed in black and pale as the moon, with those crimson orbs that stared into Ciel's soul and chilled him to the bone.

"You again," Ciel whispered sleepily, shifting his head to the side, as if in dismissal of the ghost that lingered by his bedside, "Don't you have other things to do, other than torment a wretch like me?"

There was no answer, just the pressure of that unreadable stare that focused on him with those crimson eyes. Ciel looked up at him angrily from his pillow, "Why do you continue to haunt me? I won the game. You lost, and I'm free, so find someone else to torture and leave me be."

His fingers clutched the pillowcase, as he felt his whole body quiver in a mixture of emotion, before he sighed, "I watched another man die today. Jean Claude Alain, 42, a courier. His blood is now part of my wardrobe."

There was no reaction to the news, just a continuum of the silent gaze. Ciel closed his eye and cringed from the horrible memories, "I knew that this would be my Hell... so I shouldn't complain, right?"

Ciel then bolted upright in bed, propping himself up on his forearms, "It's all your fault that I'm in this Hell! You lied to me, betrayed me! You even..."

He could feel his stomach churn with the recollection of the events 6 years ago, and covered his mouth with a shaking hand, feeling the wrath simmer deep within his aching heart, as he looked up at that horrible, beautiful, emotionless face, and said through gritted teeth, "I'll never forgive you for what you've done to me. For what you've made me become."

The demon made no action to counter Ciel's accusations, and all it caused was the boy to feel his anger and despair grow. Flustered, he lay back down, rolling onto his side to remove the figure from his sight, "Staring at me with those infernal blank eyes... didn't you once say that emotionless men sicken you? You're a hypocrite."

Ciel closed his eye and felt it sting, "Or maybe not so emotionless. You always are accusing me with those horrible eyes. I don't regret leaving your torn and bloody carcass, you hear me? I'm just fine with my life now. I'm okay with my bloody existence. I'm living with a psychopathic enamored fool who I can easily manipulate to do what I want... all I have to do is sacrifice my pride and I could have the world wrapped around my finger! I'm fine with my life now, and watching so many others as they fall one by one. It's a game I love to play. I'm winning this game, and I'm glad that I don't have you on the board anymore!"

After a few moments of silence, Ciel suddenly felt the mattress give way to a pressure applied to it, and dared to look up. Sebastian sat on the bed, eyes still lingering on Ciel's face. Those eyes; like the Mona Lisa, uninterpretable as they stared, unbroken, into his own.

Ciel sat up, and softly pressed his forehead against the black clad torso. His head was a flurry of different conflicting emotions, and his eye continued to sting from the grief that welled up within him. He balled up his fist and lightly punched against one of the demon's shoulders with a small _thump, _as he buried his face in the midnight fabric,_ "_I hate you. I hate you so much."

When there was still no reaction from the demon, Ciel could bare it no longer, and he broke away from him, lying back down upon the pillow, just staring back up at those eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, Sebastian leaned down, and caressed the side of Ciel's face softly, fingertips cool and gentle against the boy's delicate porcelain skin. Ciel closed his eye, savoring the forgotten touch, before he felt it skim against his nose, and continue to tap at it.

Snuffing with irritation, Ciel batted at the hand and said, "Argh, leave me alone, you stupid thing!"

When the batting at his nose persisted, Ciel opened his eye angrily, only to see a black furry face inches from his own, paw raised to bat him again.

"Othello?" Ciel said sleepily, before he looked around the room, getting his bearings. The room was lightly lit with the early morning light, the moment before the break of dawn. Ciel turned to his side and retrieved his watch from the bedside table, checking the time. He had slept an hour and a half since he had finished his bath.

"Punctual as always," Ciel whispered sleepily, and ran a hand over the little cat's head, scratching it behind it's ears. The cat tilted it's head with his hand, appreciating the attention, before it broke away and jumped onto the floor, and bounded to the window sill, meowing.

"Alright, alright," Ciel said, willing himself to sit up and abandon his warm bed, sleep still clinging to his brain in a haze. Sleepily, he fiddled with the handle to his window, allowing the cat to escape into the outside world.

With a pressing schedule awaiting him, Ciel yawned and headed over to the armoire, pulling it open to rummage inside for something suitable to wear. Though his assigned garment hung on the door, he dared not to look at it. Instead, he pulled out a swallow tailed deep scarlet jacket (boutique purchased) with black trimming, two corset style laces on either side, and a bow in the back, reminiscent of Grell's favorite jacket that once belonged to the late Madame Red. He also retrieved a black shirt from within, with black lace around the cuffs and collar, black pants, and a scarlet tie.

He easily dressed himself, and looked in the oval mirror that hung on his wall as he adjusted his tie, adding a small black rose pin to hold it in place while he worked. Looking at himself, he walked over to the armoire and retrieved a brush, working at his hair until he was satisfied, making sure to cover his defection with his bangs.

Standing back and making a few minor adjustments, he took out his shoes, which were scarlet and black, tied their laces taught, pocketed his silver pocket watch, and unlocked the door, heading out into the hallway.

As he descended the stairs from his attic room, he threw open the drapes for every window he passed, bathing the dreary halls in dawn light. He paused as he examined a particular stretch of wall that had acquired a long tear, and clicked his tongue with irritation at the fact that he should have ordered cheaper wallpaper in leu of his sadistic master. He dismissed it, surmising that Grell would probably not notice the tear until the most inopportune time.

The hallways were decorated elaborately, though they conveyed the deep morbidity of the owner of the house; lovely intricate picture frames supporting a rather garish painting of a skull, or some eerie portrait of a blood covered maiden or a demonic episode full of torture or blood. Roses and other red flowers were scattered all over the house in cremation urns, an ebony coffin supporting a glass top as a stylish coffee table in the lounge, and kept secret from others, the manor housed a crematory oven in one of the many rooms.

Ciel made his way down the final flight of stairs, and veered off to head down one more hallway to the backdoor of the manor. He was about to leave, before he remembered a very essential addition to his outfit, and returned upstairs. Quietly opening the door to the master bedroom, Ciel slipped into the dark chamber, tip toeing over to the large bedside to reach around for the little glass bauble that lay in Grell's possession. He found the dimly glowing Ward, chained around Grell's neck as he slept. Moving inch by inch as to not stirr the slumbering reaper, Ciel unclasped the chain and slid the necklace free, retreating back towards the door as quickly and silently as he could.

Ward rechained around his neck and tucked away safely into his shirt, Ciel returned downstairs, grasping the house key from the hook on a panel on the wall, some money, and a satchel, he exited the house, locking the door behind him.

The morning air was cool and pleasant, and the silence before the dawn was welcome to Ciel as he walked down the cobblestone streets. As the neighborhood began to stir from it's sleep, Ciel made his way towards the market, running the itinerary of items he needed for the day. He made a stop at the bakery, and exited with a batch of fresh croissants in tow. He took a bite out of one as he left, savoring the buttery flakiness of the warm bread.

He approached a stand selling fruit and vegetables on the side of the street, a girl dressed in green and peach setting down the fresh stock as she pulled it from the basket in her hands. Upon seeing the young man, a light blush graced her face, and she smiled, waving at him cheerfully.

"Good morning!" She said sweetly.

"Good morning," Ciel said, looking at the vegetables on the table and lifting one in his hand for quality inspection, "This stand usually has the best fresh food in the neighborhood."

"We restock every day," the girl said, taking another of the same vegetables and holding it up for him, "Beets are in season right now. I know your mistress really likes them."

"She likes anything red," Ciel said. Since their arrival in France, Grell had insisted on introducing himself as Madamoiselle Rouge, and threatened Ciel often to refer to him as 'Mistress', though Ciel hardly ever complied. However, it was easier to go along with saying 'she' than 'he' to the public, in order to avoid the annoying gender confusion topic that often bubbled up.

Radishes, tomatoes, beets; the girl pointed out the many red items she had on the table for Ciel's inspection, before he insisted that he'd take onions, lettuce, cauliflower, carrots, and spinach. She then smiled, grasping ahold of the spinach, and held it up to him for his scrutiny, while she informed that she knew of a good salad that consisted of strawberries that he could introduce to his mistress' palette. She supplied him with the proper ingredients; a case of strawberries, almonds, shallots, and then told him the recipe for the dressing.

"It's really easy," She said, finishing bagging up the food, "and I'm sure somebody with your workload would appreciate the time frame it uses."

Ciel held out the money for the girl to take in exchange for the baggage, stating, "Let me know when you find a recipe for something that reverses time, then we'll talk about appreciating time frames."

The girl looked at him, sympathizing the boy rather than flustered by his cold words, and went back to her work, blessing his back with a "Have a good day!" as he walked off down the street.

Ciel continued shopping, stopping by the tailors to retrieve the garments that Grell had modified recently to fit him better. Upon exiting, Ciel checked his watch. Seeing that he was lagging behind, he headed home, though he walked no faster than he usually did.

Upon nearing the manor's backside, he noticed Othello lying on the railing of the porch, eyes watching his approach. As Ciel opened the gate, the cat jumped off, and pawed at the door, meowing again.

"In or out, make up your mind," Ciel said gruffly, moving the cat over with his foot as he walked up to the back door and unlocked it, pushing it open with his shoulder as he juggled the many parcels in his hand. He headed over to the kitchen, Othello bounding ahead of him and perching on a stool as he entered the room.

Dumping the produce and bakery goods on the table, and lying the garments on the back of a chair, he walked over to a closet and retrieved a black apron, tying it on to replace his jacket, and began working on the construction of breakfast.

His skills had improved somewhat since his first attempt at cookery; though his dishes were by far simpler in comparison to what Sebastian was capable of producing, his were far more edible than what Grell ever created. Setting the kettle on the stove, Ciel prepared the water for boiling, and began work on crafting breakfast.

He poached several eggs, and prepared the croissants, buttering them and supplying a glass jar of raspberry jam. He also cooked some salmon with lemon, lying it down with a sprig of thyme for flavor.

Satisfied with the meal's consistency, he retrieved the service cart and began to prepare the tea, setting up the meal's presentation while the tea leaves steeped.

His work done, he undid the apron and hung it back up in the closet. Grasping the handle of the service cart, he pushed it into the hallway, and made the trip towards his mistress's room. The trip was annoying at best; the many stairs that led up to the Death God's chambers were a task in themselves for Ciel, though he had mastered being able to take the cart up without ruining the presentation. Finally in front of the room, he rapped his knuckles against the door, and pushed his way in, pulling the cart behind him.

The elegant, elaborately decorated room was cluttered in all sorts of macabre accents; blood stained dolls piled up against one of the corners; a red and black armchair, a black fireplace mantle adorned with all sorts of dark collectables and trophies, like a skull and jars filled with assorted grotesque things. Ciel abandoned the cart to look at the black four poster that was surrounded with a canopy barrier of red swooping drapes and black lace, and buried under the bulky scarlet sheets snored his master, hair splayed out over the black silk pillows like rivers of blood.

Shaking his head, Ciel walked over to the window and threw open the shades, letting the morning light flood the room, and coaxed a loud groan from the bed.

"God damn it," Grell muttered angrily, voice still soaked in sleepy grogginess, "Are you going to do that every day?"

"It's time to wake up," Ciel said, hands behind his back as he stood by the window, "You said 8:15."

"Since when did you ever listen to what I say?" Grell growled, rolling over to block the sunlight with his back and covering his head with a pillow, "Close that damn window."

"You've got a meeting with William today," Ciel said, ignoring the command and raising the tea pot with one hand, pouring the steaming red beverage into a black china tea cup, "and you've got an appointment with Madame Garouge and Monsieur Tredeau this afternoon afterwards. I've already prepared your outfits for each."

Grell sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, irritably, as Ciel rounded the side of the bed and handed him the tea cup, "Red tea, four sugars."

"Finally got it right," Grell muttered, taking a sip of it, "So, what you got for me then?"

Ciel grasped the mended clothes from under the cart, and laid them down on the bed for his scrutiny. Grell smiled, "Awww... nice choice, doll."

"The tailor mended your dress, so you can wear that to the appointment today," Ciel stated, laying out the brilliant red dress. It was red and black striped, and swooped at the shoulders down to the chest in a heart shaped neck. The bodice connected to the skirt in heavy folds so that the hips would look larger, and the many layers of skirt were concluded with a subtle black ruffle. The dress was laced with a black ribbon that tied into a bead-adorned bow at the small of the back in a corset like fashion.

"For William's meeting, I got your business outfit," Ciel also laid down the familiar black vest, white shirt, black slacks, and long red coat combination that Grell adored, though the coat still maintained the heavy scarlet stains that Ciel was unable to wash out, to Grell's own joy.

"Very good," Grell said, finishing up his tea in a long gulp, "Ah~! Hit the spot. You're getting better at it."

Ciel disregarded the compliment and headed for the door, only to be stopped by a "Aren't we forgetting something?"

He turned around, and saw that Grell was standing, holding his arms out expectantly with a grand smirk on his face. Ciel's shoulders slouched in annoyance as he turned, hand still on the knob, and said, "Do I have to? Aren't you capable of dressing yourself?"

"Get over here, now," Grell said, a little venom lacing his tone.

Ciel sighed heavily and walked over to the Death God, who's victorious smile widened as he worked at unbuttoning the scarlet nightgown that he wore.

Ciel was not amused as Grell was obviously enjoying the action a little too much, giggling occasionally as Ciel descended down the line of buttons that secured the nightdress. He looked up with a little glare as he knelt down on the floor, warning the Death God not to pull anything.

"What a good view," Grell said, smiling wide and slipping his fingers through Ciel's hair, clenching it playfully, "I could get used to that."

Ciel ignored the crawling fingers on his scalp and finished unbuttoning the outfit, before he stood up and reached to disrobe his master, who's detestable expression made Ciel want to retreat immediately.

"Woah, slow down boy," Grell smiled, fingers grasping the back of Ciel's neck as he pulled the dress off of his shoulders, exposing the pale flesh beneath, "Why the hurry?"

"I have other pressing things to attend to," Ciel said coldly, not bothering to play the game, "I have to meet with RedGrave to survey the production of the Murder Queen line, I have to tend to the small lady as well, I have the housework to do, and to balance your finances tonight, which I might add, is incredibly difficult at the rate you burn though money."

"You know," Grell purred seductively, taking his free hand to lightly stroke under Ciel's chin, "I'll forgive you if you forgo the housework today."

Ciel moved his head to dislodge the distasteful contact, and freed the other arm, leaving Grell completely exposed. He turned around to place the garment under the cart so he could take it to the laundry, and walked over to the bedside to retrieve the new clothes. As he grasped for the shirt, he felt two arms encircle his body, bracing him back against a wall of flesh, causing a lump to rise in his throat from disgust.

"Aw Ciel," Grell crooned, nuzzling the back of his head with his nose, breathing in the scent of the boy's neck, "you do so much for me, you have no idea."

"I have some idea," Ciel muttered coldly, cringing as Grell placed a small kiss on his throat, one hand spread over his chest, while the other one rested on his abdomen, pressing him up against the other man's chest.

"I have an idea," Grell slid his tongue against Ciel's neck, making the young man shiver in his embrace, despite the obvious repulsion that the boy's aura bore, "How about we play a little game? Let's call it Jack the Ripper versus The Queen's Watchdog. We can even use this little diamond collar I bought especially for you."

"You--" Ciel twisted a little in retaliation, but Grell maintained a firm hold on him, "--Urgh, why did you go waste money on such a thing?"

"What are you? My finance fairy?" Grell said, disgruntled that Ciel was ruining the mood over something so petty. Determined to coax a real reaction from his little butler, he dared to slink his fingers down against the crotch of Ciel's pants, which caused the boy to try to twist violently from his grasp. Amused by the game, Grell pushed Ciel forward so that he fell onto the bed, and he pressed down against his back, pinning him between the mattress and his body. Ciel tried to wrestle him off, but the Death God remained relentless, and laughed as the boy tried to get out from under him.

"My, you have a ton of energy," Grell giggled in Ciel's ear, licking the shell and causing Ciel to flinch, "I'd love to put it to work."

"You already do," Ciel bit, trying to struggle out from under him, and moaning softly in disgust and repulsive pleasure as his master continued to massage at his groin, forcing an honest reaction from Ciel's poor body.

Grell noticed the change, and let out a victorious laugh, though his victory was short lived; Othello bounded onto the bed, and onto Ciel's back, making a swipe at Grell's face. The Death God recoiled immediately, setting Ciel free to scramble back to a standing position.

The crimson reaper was thoroughly vexed; deprived of sex and bleeding from a thin line across his nose, Grell made to tear the animal to pieces. Ciel made to grasp ahold of the cat's body and tossed it out of Grell's reach, only to narrowly avoid being jumped on.

"I swear, I'm going to kill that god damn cat," Grell cursed, as the creature bolted out of the room and disappeared into the hallway.

By the time he got over his little scrape across his nose, Grell noticed that his own little plaything had also disappeared, and growled in failure as he grabbed ahold of his shirt and tugged it on himself.

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Yay for Chapter 16! ^^ Chapter 17 should be around tomorrow night, should I have enough time.

A little Sebastian for the people who missed him (though he really didn't do anything but stand there looking drop dead gorgeous, sorry), and a first; an almost Ciel x Grell for a minute! (Now imagine having to put up with that everyday... yeesh.)

You know what song really comes to mind for Grell as a master/mistress? Sweet Transvestite from Rocky Horror Picture Show. Totally get the image.

Anyway, thank you for reading and for your wonderful reviews!


	17. Chapter 17: Parfum

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case some of you may be wondering; _Parfum _is _Perfume _in French.

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**-17-**

**Parfum**

Shutting the door to the kitchen behind him, Ciel exhaled heavily, looking down at the little black creature that had resumed it's perch upon the stool, watching him intently as it licked the back of it's paw.

"Thanks," Ciel breathed, before he straightened up his outfit and wiped his forehead, calming himself down from the horrible experience upstairs. Returned to a less flustered state, he began working on the second breakfast set; a scrambled egg, sliced strawberries in a pinwheel shape set on top of a powdered sugar drizzle over a warm croissant, a strawberry mille feuille, and a sweet herbal tea, infused with lemon. Pouring the contents of the beverage into a white teapot and allowing the tea leaves time to steep, he tested the contents to make sure they were sufficient. He heard a small meow from the stool, and turned to see the cat staring at him, head bobbing down as if in gesture towards the tea cup he held in one hand.

"Hmph," Ciel scoffed, before he knelt down and poured a fresh cup for the cat, pushing the little teacup towards the feline as it jumped down and padded over to it, lapping up the warm liquid with it's little pink tongue.

"I guess I owe you one," Ciel said, running a hand over the cat's shoulders and scratching it behind the ear before standing back up and grasping ahold of the service cart. Othello looked up from it's cup, as the boy pushed the tray out into the hallway and towards the little mistress's chambers.

† † † †

When Ciel opened the door to the small lady's room, he had already noticed that the bed covers were in mid-float. Shaking his head, he pulled the cart behind him with one hand, making his way to the center of the room. Leaving the tray by the fireplace, he walked over to the windows, and pulled them open, flooding the child's room with rays of warm sunshine.

The room was a parallel of her 'mother's'; though she possessed many dolls, they were lain with care in several places throughout the room, and her mantle place was adorned with many baubles and toys, kept tidy and organized. Books were stacked on tabletops, and lines of curios and bottles containing assorted interesting objects rested on the desktop. A small table stood in front of the window, a chess-board design laid in tiles upon the mosaic surface. A large ebony armoire rested against one wall, and a table supporting a gramophone stood by the bedside, while it's twin held a scarlet and black lamp. Notably, a large four poster bed dominated the room, though this one was adorned in a sweeping sheer canopy of red and white, and twisting about the sheer drapes were scarlet and white striped climbing roses that grew from a long box underneath the headboard, hidden from sight beneath the bed.

Ciel reached one hand over to pull the black silk covers away, revealing the innocent sleeping face of his small mistress.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," Ciel said, tickling her nose with his finger. The little girl tried to maintain her sleeping facade, but broke out into a small giggle, batting away his hand playfully, before opening crystal blue eyes to the morning light.

"Good morning, Ciel!" She said cheerfully, with not a single shred of sleepiness to her small dulcet voice.

"You were up again, weren't you?" Ciel said, sighing as he pulled his hand away and stood up, walking over to the service tray to pour his rising mistress a cup of the warm beverage.

"No I wasn't!" She insisted innocently, sitting up and yawning, pausing to rub her eyes, trying to feign her innocence to the accusation.

"Uh huh," Ciel said cynically, turning to look at her, "and how do you plan to explain the levitating covers I saw when I came into the room? Not to mention the dirt on the floor... and..."

He delivered the warm tea cup to her, her tiny hands grasping it with a smile of gratitude as she looked up at him, as he concluded with a sigh, "You're still in your day clothes."

"Nuh uh!" She protested, turning her head away in a little huff, "how dare you suggest such a thing!"

"Oh really?" Ciel then threw the rest of the sheets back, despite her wiggling protest, and revealed that she was still dressed in her frilly red and black dress and apron, and that she still wore little black mary janes that had left streaks of mud on the white silk sheets. Ciel would have given a look of victory, only he was exasperated by the fact that the child had been so foolish. He stood back and tapped the side of his forehead with a sigh, "Dahlia, did you have to go to bed with your shoes on?"

Dahlia hung her head, shamefully, "I'm sorry," she said, "I went outside this morning for a minute, and then came right back, really."

"You know you aren't supposed to leave your room past bed time," Ciel sighed, as he took the emptied tea cup from her, "What have I told you?"

"I'm safe as long as I remain in here," Dahlia recited, shifting so that her little legs dangled off the side of the bed, "You've told me before, but I really wanted to pick this really pretty rose outside."

"All that trouble for a rose? Couldn't you have picked it this afternoon?" Ciel said, shaking his head at the child's logic as he walked over to the armoire and searched around for a proper outfit for the girl.

"No, I wanted it right when it woke up," Dahlia said sternly, as she swung her legs back and forth, "I needed it when it was prettiest."

"Why's that?" Ciel said, as he withdrew a white and pink dress adorned with red swirling designs from the armoire's depths and threw it over his arm, and continued looking for proper accessories to accompany it.

"It's a present," Dahlia said, smiling happily as he walked up to her and knelt down to remove her shoes, placing them beside him on the floor carefully as to not worsen the state of the room with more mud. The little girl leaned over to her bedside and opened a drawer, reaching in to pull out a very lovely red rose, partially opened, spotted with dew, and still maintaining many thorns on it's overly long stem. The girl playfully stuck it behind Ciel's ear, which caused the boy to jump in surprise for a minute, clutching at the small scrape and alarming her, causing her to cover her mouth with her hand.

"Oww... Dahlia! It still had thorns!" he said, hissing as the tried to pull the flower from its' anchor in his hair.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, standing up on the bed to lean over and attempt to help him, little fingers grasping the rose and lifting it carefully from his ear, clutching it to her chest as she looked at him sadly, "I'm so sorry, Ciel! I forgot about the thorns."

Calming down and deeming the little scrape not worthy of such ruckus, Ciel sighed and rubbed his ear, "It's alright. Just think next time before doing things."

"I thought it would look pretty in your hair," she said, looking down at her little gift forlornly, "I'm sorry Ciel. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I said it's alright," Ciel began unbuttoning the little girls' dress, "stop apologizing unnecessarily."

"Don't tell mummy," Dahlia pleaded softly, eyes still filled with guilt for her foolish trick.

"I won't tell on you," Ciel said, folding up the little dress and storing it next to the shoes on the floor, "besides, I don't have time to. I've got a lot of things today and throwing a party over you giving me a cut is not part of the schedule."

"Here," Dahlia hopped off the bed, despite being middressed, and trotted over to her desk, retrieving from one of the drawers a set of silver shears. She took the rose and started snipping off all the thorns, before turning around and returning to him, holding the flower to her chest like it was made of glass. As Ciel knelt down to continue undressing the little girl, she tucked the harmless flower behind his ear gingerly, careful of the cuts, "I would have done this earlier, but you came up the stairs too fast."

"It's pretty," Dahlia smiled sweetly, as Ciel looked up at her, "but Ciel's always beautiful."

"Thank you," Ciel said, before he began putting on the fresh clothes, turning his little doll around to lace the pink ribbon that bound the corset style back. Dahlia assisted, holding her long scarlet curls up to give him room to work.

After dressing the little girl, the pair walked over to the vanity, where she sat down pleasantly, sipping another cup of tea as he ran an ornate comb through her hair.

Though Grell liked the idea of having a child, her upbringing and care taking was something left to be desired by the irresponsible Death God. Luckily for Ciel, he had the position of nurturing the girl with minor interruption, though when Grell did interfere with her, it was often to scoff that she had no violence in her blood. Though Dahlia was in no way squeamish towards blood or the macabre due to her heavy immersion, she had an innocence that Grell found irritating to say the least. Ciel often defended the girl, and insisted for the sake of all that she would probably follow in her 'mother's' footsteps when she was older, which was acceptable enough for the Death God, and he continued to enjoy the doll-like appearance of his small child with a hope that she would soon adopt a more malicious mentality as she matured.

Dahlia had grown quite lovely over the years, and was a progeny at many things; one in particular was the violin. Ciel had coached her very early in life, since she had taken such a great liking to the instrument when she heard it on the street one day when they were shopping. However, Ciel's talents were not grand enough to coach her further, when she mastered everything he could teach her from his past life. So, he hired a music tutor; a celebrated violinist. The little girl was quickly learning many songs and techniques, and her tutor often bragged about her blooming young pupil with pride that could rival the sun. Dahlia practiced with so much devotion, that she would fall asleep to her gramophone playing a soft violin solo.

Despite her age, Dahlia was quite intelligent, though she often acted without thinking things through, which Ciel felt was exhausting, and he tried his best to break her of the habit. She had also developed a great liking to literature; her favorite time was sitting with Ciel in the study, reading pages from her favorite book, Alice in Wonderland, aloud. Often, she would quote the passages throughout the house; following after Ciel, grabbing ahold of his jacket and saying, "You're late, Mr. Rabbit!"

As she sat still in the chair, partaking of her little breakfast with an appeased smile, Ciel wound her hair into a high up-do pinned with a brocaded barrette, letting her thick scarlet curls hang down behind her. She turned her head every which way to inspect it, before she pulled her curls over her shoulder and traced her slender fingers through them, unbinding them from their uniform twist into little wavy ribbons. Smiling with satisfaction, she turned around, thanking him again for his good work, before taking another bite of the strawberry skewered on her fork.

The door creaked open, and both looked over to see a little black shadow saunter in and sit a couple feet away from the vanity. Dahlia smiled, holding her hand down to coax the little cat over to her, "Hello Othello!"

The little cat considered her hand for a minute, before deciding to pad over to her, rubbing it's head against her fingertips politely, before Ciel commented, "You're going to cause fur to get into your food."

The little girl withdrew her hand to finish eating, before the door was thrown wide by another; a very irritated and fully dressed Grell stood in the doorway, eyes glaring at the little creature that sat calmly by the small lady's ankle.

"Do you need something?" Ciel said, calmly, as if disregarding the early morning harassment altogether.

"Other than that cat's pelt, you remember you're going to be wearing my outfit today," Grell's eyes shifted towards the boy, the anger not dimming in the slightest with the knowledge that the boy had once again avoided his 'duties', "don't go thinking you can go dressed like that to RedGrave without me knowing."

"I know," Ciel insisted, accepting a little ornate ribbon from Dahlia's hand and tying it around her little neck, "I'm just wearing this to finish up the morning's duties, then I'm going to change. Is there anything else you want?"

"Using that tone," Grell's eyes narrowed, voice taking on a darker tone, "You really do need an attitude adjustmen--"

"Good morning mummy," Dahlia interjected, drawing the Death God's attention away from her butler, "did you sleep well?"

"Fine," Grell said, walking over to his daughter and planting a small kiss on her forehead, "I slept just fine, until someone had to wake me up."

He concluded his statement with a spiteful glare at Ciel, before he stood up and looked around the room, "God, you did not inherit my taste..."

"I'm sorry mummy," Dahlia apologized, "I'm afraid I don't have the same creativity as you. I'll work hard to make you proud. I promise."

"I know you will, sweetheart," Grell smiled, hugging his adorable doll, before he turned on his heel to walk out, "Ciel, make sure you take care of things at RedGrave. I'm going to be out late tonight, so make sure everything is done before I get home."

"You're running late," Ciel stated loudly, hoping to urge the Death God to leave before he could find more reasons to stall. Grell glared at him again while exiting, and the two listened as they heard the heels thudding against the carpet disappear down the hall and through the main entrance, slamming the large ebony door behind him upon his exit.

"Hehehe~!" Dahlia giggled, leaning over to gently pick up Othello and rest him on her lap, scratching him behind the ear, "I saw the scratch on mummy's face! Did you play too rough again? You better be careful kitty or mummy will have you stuffed and stored in the lounge!"

"Othello can take care of himself," Ciel said, as he finished preparing the girl and walked over to make her bed, stripping off the dirty sheets and replacing them with new ones, smoothing his hands over the fabric to flatten the wrinkles, "Now, I have to get ready for my meeting with the RedGrave business heads. You finish your breakfast and find your supplies for your lessons today, and I'll escort you."

"For a butler, you're really bossy," Dahlia said, looking over her shoulder at him playfully, "but okay."

Finished sprucing up the bed, Ciel nodded and headed out of the room. Dahlia looked down at the cat on her lap and scratched it under the chin as it watched the butler leave, "Stay with me, or go with him?"

The cat yawned, laid it's head down, and curled up on her lap under her fingers, which made the little girl giggle and turn back to finish her meal.

† † † †

RedGrave's cosmetics devision was widely known for it's vibrant and violently alluring lines of products. From it's lip rouge to it's eye shadow, the primarily red based company flourished in Paris amongst the high society population and the fashion divas. It's perfume devision was quickly gaining in popularity, as was the eccentric fashion devision that dealt with the most daring styles of dresses, suits, and footwear.

Operators, artisans, and businessmen alike strived under heavy scrutiny of Madamoiselle Rouge; the founder of the entire company. Fear alone seemed to drive many of the leaders, since it was widely known of Madamoiselle Rouge's horrid temper, if not scary deposition altogether. More feared was her advocate; her young, yet frigid butler that often attended the meetings and made rounds of the company in her stead. Blanc, as he was referred, often showed up invited or no, and held the company under complete scrutiny. He'd make rounds, critiquing the operations and work ethics of every employee, at unpredictable moments, firing obsolete workers without a second's appeal, and reversing operations on a whim, though his intuition often proved very beneficial to the company in the long run.

Though he was a well feared legend amongst the workers of RedGrave, he was not without a following. He often showed up in Madamoiselle's latest creations, causing the artisans to overflow with morbid inspiration. A model with eyes so cold and calculating that the morbid designs were instantly desirable. The artisans were visionaries of the most macabre; from the wretches of society to poets with crafty hands, even a doctor supplied his own vision to the grotesque yet divine development of the products; resulting in such headliners as 'Ripped Tender Heart"; a glass bottle in the shape of a real human heart yielding a thick red liquid for lip rouge, and the "Bathory" line; bath supplements that dyed the bath red, though the minerals had wonderful results for the hair and skin, and consumers could swear that the rose scented baths made them look ten years younger.

Reginald Beaufort waited like a man on the road to an execution, as the secretary ran up to him, flustered, "Monsieur Blanc has arrived!"

"Oh, good!" he choked, fiddling with his tie as the nervousness gripped his throat and caused a small lump to rise. Things had not been good; not at all. Word was that the projects in development were somehow being leaked to rival shops and companies before hitting the shelves; notably, the fragrance "Murder Queen", which had somehow popped up in a perfumery in Paris, under the pseudonym "Queen of Hearts". Monsieur Beaufort was convinced that Blanc knew of the intelligence leak, and he knew that his own head would be subject to RedGrave's own "Murder Queen" before the day was out.

The secretary opened the door for the butler, bowing his head in respect as the young man passed. Adorned in the elegant white jacket, shorts, and shirt, emblazoned with a massacre like splatter of scarlet color, the boy looked like an avenging snow angel. Tucked behind one ear blossomed a beautiful red rose, which seemed to sparkle under the lamplight with beads of dew trapped within the petals. A single rose blooming in the dead of winter. Ciel crossed the room to Reginald, his one azure eye stoic as he judged the man upon arriving. Monsieur Beaufort could swear that he felt his blood crystalize under the sparkling blue gaze.

"Good morning, Monsieur Blanc," Reginald greeted, bowing his head to his esteemed colleague, though the young man did not return the motion, "I trust you slept well?"

"I've come to survey the factory, make sure everything is in order," Ciel said, looking out the window at the large workhouse below; suited with countless manufacture lines and cluttered with workers developing the cosmetics.

"Of course, of course," Monsieur Beaufort nodded, and lead the way for the doll like butler, bowing one too many times in an effort to calm his own heart down, than to appease the guest.

Ciel glanced around the workhouse, surveying the different departments as they continued with their work, accompanied by Reginald Beaufort and his secretary. A flock of artisans occasionally clamored around the boy, observing his attire with a bizarre fondness, before melting back to their workplaces to scratch out their next masterpieces. Despite the critiques, the boy remained indifferent, and continued to take in the workplace conditions with the same frigid gaze, offering his own critique at every operation.

To Monsieur Beaufort's own horror, the butler insisted on visiting the perfumery; a large building that carted a heavy laden aroma of thousands upon thousands of flowers being prepared for distilling. As they walked the line of workers, Ciel's blue eye strayed over to one side room in particular.

A man who was judging the condition of a shipment of lilacs was arguing with the shipper, shouting that the flowers were beyond prime condition due to rough treatment, and therefore useless. The shipper countered with an equally raised voice, declaring the lilacs in perfect condition, and not his problem otherwise, which the man reposted that the shipper was even tardy in the delivery. He pulled out his pocket watch from his pocket and gestured angrily at the time, red soaking his face as he continued to yell.

Ciel tapped his chin in thought, eye narrowing a little, as he contemplated the argument with interest, not paying any attention to Monsieur Beaufort's constant rambles about the successful production of the "Rose Thorn" line.

Reginald stopped mid-speech, to see the Ciel walking away, approaching the man who continued to gesture at his pocket watch.

"Excuse me," Ciel said, tapping the man on the shoulder. The man turned around, still red as a beet, and gruffly scowled at the elegantly dressed doll that stood before him.

"What do you want?" he jeered, looking the boy up and down with scrutiny.

"Do you by chance have the time?" Ciel asked, tilting his head to the side, "I'm afraid my watch is slow, and I would like to readjust it to the proper time, so I may know when I can finally leave my cohort and his incisive rambling."

"Agh... alright," the man snorted, pulling the watch out of his jacket and handing it to the boy's outstretched hand. Ciel turned the silver trinket in his hand, sliding his fingers over the surface of the watch delicately. His lips curved into a slight smile, and he held the chain up in front of his eye, turning the object around.

"It's a very nice watch," Ciel said, watching it slowly spin in showcase, "Wherever did you get it?"

"I got it from my wife," the man said, making a reach for it, "dowry present from when I married her four years ago."

The man held out his hand further, insisting that the boy return his watch sooner rather than later.

"Is that so?" Ciel's smile increased a little before he wrapped the chain around the watch and deposited it into the man's hand, "what is your name?"

"Delaflote," the man snorted, grasping the watch and pocketing it immediately, "I judge the flower quality before they are used for production."

Ciel turned around and looked at Monsieur Beaufort, who had been listening intently to the conversation, face in distress and insult that the young man was no longer interested in his business pitch. The boy continued on his survey of the workplace, walking along the production line and entering the distillery. As they continued on with the tour, the butler interrupted his spiel with a, "Curious."

"What?" Monsieur Beaufort turned to look at the boy, who was tapping his chin in thought. Worried that something he said might not have been clear, the man chanced a, "Something the matter with the distillery?"

"Monsieur Beaufort," Ciel looked up at the man, "are you aware of the recent leak of intelligence within the company?"

Reginald's body temperature rose from being put on the spot, and he began to sweat profusely, "Y-Yes sir, I'm aware of that rumor."

"It's no rumor. A small perfume shop in Montmartre started displaying a particular fragrance a couple days ago that bears a striking resemblance to the perfume we were developing called "Murder Queen". I believe it's called, "Queen of Hearts"? Now, it is safe to assume that this industry is really a race to see who can create an original masterpiece and deliver it to the shelves first, and those who follow are merely knock offs. We are an industry founded by a distinct style, and so what we develop must be hundred percent original work, and beyond exceptional."

"But of course," Beaufort insisted, flustered at to where exactly the boy was going with his train of thought, and worrying excessively for his position within the company.

"It's here that I reach a complicated dilemma," Ciel sighed, hands behind his back as he paced a few steps, "I either have to assume that this company is a nest of idea thieving rodents... or, there is just one rat in particular that is selling company secrets."

"I swear, Monsieur Blanc," Beaufort felt his face heat in dread, as he tried to defend the entire workplace from the stake, "there are no rats within the company! We're very hygienic here."

"That is not what I'm saying," the young man said cynically, shaking his head with a sigh, "but assuming that the entire development team is a bunch of liars and thieves is not entirely a logical approach, especially with your evident horrible reaction to any accusations. You're either way too honest, Monsieur Beaufort, or a very good actor."

Reginald Beaufort stood stunned for a moment, before Ciel sighed again and turned his head away, "Very well, then it's a single rat, like I suspected."

"Shall I call an exterminator?" Reginald inquired nervously.

"Yes," Ciel smirked up at him, eye shining, "I just need your dossiers containing the names of all the workers of RedGrave. Give me an hour to confirm my suspicions, and when you return with your exterminators, I'll point out your rat."

"Of course, sir," Monsieur Beaufort nodded excessively, before following the young man back towards the offices.

**† † † †**

Monsieur Delaflote was busy tallying his totals for the day, when he looked up to see a white figure standing before him. Looking up, he narrowed his eyes as he observed the young man clad in white and red attire, a bloody angel. The look on the boy's face, however, was far from angelic, as the icy stare bore into the man's eyes, as if summing up the man's worth.

"Delaflote," Ciel stood with his hands behind his back, eye trained on the grubby man who sat hunched over the table before him, "I have a question for you."

"What would that be? Can't you see that I'm busy working here?" the man huffed, looking down to go back to his tallies, "I've no time to be entertaining kids."

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, really," Ciel pulled up a seat and sat across from the man, and held up a shining metallic trinket, suspended by a silver chain. Lured by the shine, the man's eyes rose up to focus on a hanging pocket watch, which rotated within the boy's grasp.

"Tell me, what did your wife's father do?" Ciel inquired, face resting against the back of his hand as his fingers continued to spin the watch mesmerically in front of the man.

"He was a baker's assistant," the man snorted, "why?"

"So, you're saying, that a baker was able to afford such an astounding watch as this?" Ciel's eye flicked back towards the watch and then back at the man, waiting his answer.

"Yeah," the man said, as he went back to looking down at his work, no longer entranced by the shiny object.

"So you're saying he's successful?" Ciel dropped the watch onto the table, startling the man up from his tallies, "Successful enough to buy a watch like that?"

"Where are you going with this, kid?" the man was obviously annoyed, and was to the point of shoving the unwanted guest out from his workplace for the excessive questions.

"What I'm getting at, Monsieur Delaflote," Ciel leaned forward, both elbows on the table and netted fingers supporting his chin, "Is that you are a liar and quite possibly a thief."

"By what claim?" Delaflote sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to tower over the annoying mouse that sat before him.

"By the fact that the watch in your possession is by no means accessible to anyone working for a salary man's pay, let alone for a bakery assistant. That is a limited edition watch priced extraordinarily high; only thirty were released by the Rutherford Company in England. Only the incredibly wealthy can possess such a costly item, and you, sir, are by no means a wealthy person. Also, you're trying to pass such an item off as a dowry inheritance, when you've been married for four years, and these watches are no more than eleven months old. Not to mention, that you are claiming a baker's assistant was able to include such a thing to a dowry. So, by what reason would you have to hide the true reason such a thing came into your possession? It comes across highly suspicious. Especially with the recent intelligence leaks that have been occuring involving the department you work for. For what reason would you have to lie to me?"

Monsieur Delaflote looked stunned, and his eyes widened in surprise as the accusation continued to drill further and further into the mans' skull, forcing him into a corner without an opening to retort. Ciel continued his interrogation, concluding, "You've been selling company secrets, and upon the trade, you received the watch, am I correct? Otherwise, you came by it by some other means, by which I'll have to let the police handle the affairs. What was it? Theft? Murder? I'm sure some noble family would testify for such a familiar item."

"Stop!" Delaflote pleaded, feeling the fabric of his affairs slowly unravel; the secret meeting with master perfumer Monsieur Halifax, the rendezvous outside of the RedGrave factory, slipping the recipe for Murder Queen into the man's pocket and pulling out the outstanding watch in exchange. Feeling the accusations stab in one at a time, and realizing the boy had to be quieted before he was condemned for worse, a very desperate Delaflote lunged forward to shut the boy up, only to have two pairs of strong hands grasp him back, and haul him up to his feet. Two burly workhouse men restrained him, as a very confused Monsieur Beaufort and secretary watched from the sidelines, completely in awe.

"How did you know he was the rat?" Beaufort asked, still trying to sort out the quick resolution in his head as he approached a rather content looking Ciel, who pocketed his watch and netted his fingers on the table.

"Simple," Ciel looked at him, "I checked the dossiers. He lives in a poor district, with a poor family. His wife's background also proved that he had no means of obtaining such a pricey item. Furthermore, he's a liar. If he obtained such a watch by legal means, then he wouldn't have had a reason to lie to me about how he got it. He chose to use a half baked story about his watch being a dowry present, rather than say that he bought it himself or found it on the street. He knew he was guilty, and panicked when he was asked about it, making some rather fatal mistakes. Whether he's guilty of worse, or not, that's for a judge to decide. If he is indeed innocent, he has nothing to fear. However, he was disrespectful. I don't want filth like that working in my mistress's factory, regardless his crime."

"Who do you think you are kid?!" Monsieur Delaflote yelled, as he was dragged out of the room for further questioning elsewhere.

Ciel shrugged and smirked slightly, "I'm just a butler."

† † † †

Watching through the window of the office, as Monsieur Delaflote was escorted out of the factory, Ciel walked back over to the executive's desk, and set down a stack of papers that he had analyzed, "From here, if there are any more leaks of intelligence within the company, then I'm going to assume that I will need to take a more drastic steps in relieving the problem, starting with you, Monsieur Beaufort. You are my mistress's guard dog; your job is to observe your workers and attack those who step out of line. Do not have me to do your job for you again, or I'll assume your position would be better filled by someone more capable. "

Monsieur Beaufort nodded nervously, trying to force the lump of solid fear down his throat, and grasped the stack, shuffling the papers before storing them safely into his desk.

"Consider Murder Queen a lost cause. Scrap the old recipe and start again," Ciel instructed, as he reached into his jacket pocket, withdrawing his own watch from the depths, "And please try to make it at least a tolerable fragrance this time."

Ciel checked the time and clamped it shut with his index and thumb, "If you'll excuse me, I have other things to attend to. I figure you'll manage until my next visit."

"Yes sir," Beaufort bowed, as the cold hearted boy turned and exited the executive's office, leaving his heart pounding heavily in his chest as the anxiety slowly ebbed away.

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Finally done with Chapter 17. Sorry it took so long! Was more difficult to write than it looks!

So now we see little Dahlia. She's fun to write for because she's a blank canvas, but it's hard at the same time because I have to consider, "What kind of child would grow up in that kind of environment?" It's really difficult!

Anyway, next chapter to arrive soon! I have today to work on it, so hopefully it'll be on tomorrow!

Oh, and I wanted to include, that during my song searching, I found one that goes really well with my story! It's called A Love Suicide by Yutaka Minobe (from the game 'Rule of Rose'). ^^ (I know, it's annoying I keep adding to this list, but if anything gives me inspiration, I'd like to add it!)

Thank you for all your awesome reviews and for reading my story!


	18. Chapter 18: Jouets

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

To those of you who may be wondering; _Jouets _means _Toys _in French.

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**-18-**

**Jouets**

A beautiful sound flooded the halls of Madame Garnier's household, twisting in the air and painting a beautiful picture of a sweet romance upon sun drenched meadows. Madame Garnier held her breath, as the little girl, a scarlet angel, stood before her in the drawing room, playing her instrument with such expertise, such soul, one could swear the heavens themselves had opened to rain glory upon the world.

As Ciel opened the door to the house, the music collided with his ears, and he closed his eye, allowing Dahlia's music to soak into his mind. He felt a rare moment of peace; no torment, no pain, only the beautiful strum of the chords as his little mistress continued to play. Following the music, he entered the drawing room where the recital immediately concluded, as Dahlia immediately noticed his arrival, and ran to embrace him in welcome.

"Did you hear?" She smiled up at him happily, crystal blue eyes shimmering with excitement, "Did you hear me play?"

"It was very nice," Ciel complimented, before looking up at a tearful Madame Garnier, who began clapping.

"Isn't she astounding?" Madame Garnier gasped, running a lacy handkerchief under her eyes, in an attempt to relieve herself of the overwhelming feeling bubbling up inside her bosom, "To believe that she is my pupil! I must thank you, Monsieur, for allowing me to have her in my possession every day. She really is a remarkable student!"

"Of course," Ciel said, "I would not expect any less from her."

"I'm going to get ready," Dahlia said, as she released her butler and trotted off to retrieve her violin case.

"At the rate she's going, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd be playing professionally by eight!" the senior violinist praised, glowing with a beam of her own hubris as she observed the small girl wipe her instruments clean and gently lay them to rest within the velvet bedding of the case.

"I would think she'd be capable already of performing professionally," Ciel stated, "for she nearly surpasses yourself in the art, Madame."

Not sure if what he said was either a sweet compliment or a snide comment, Madame Garnier's pride accepted the former, and blushed softly, "That may be! That very well may be!"

"I'm ready!" Dahlia announced, little mahogany case in hand as she approached her butler, and curtseyed for her tutor, "Thank you for the wonderful lesson today!"

"You're welcome, precious! Come back tomorrow!" Madame Garnier smiled happily, waving at their backs as Ciel escorted the young lady out from the drawing room, and through the front door, all the while praising herself for the lovely child's amazing progress, and blushing hopelessly over the handsome young butler that had complimented her efforts.

† † † †

"You're late, you know," Dahlia said, as the pair walked down the street, Ciel holding her violin case in one hand, and grasping her little hand in the other.

"I had important business to take care of," Ciel stated, looking down at her, "besides, you didn't look like you minded."

"You look happy," Dahlia chimed, a little smile on her face, "so you must have had a good day at work, right?"

"You could say that," Ciel navigated around a group of chattering women, who were all immersed in an in depth talk about how to properly cook a plum pudding, "I did a little cleaning about the factory. It should be working smoother now."

"Cleaning?" Dahlia looked up at him, a little confused, before her eyes caught sight of the sign behind his head, and widened with a dazzling desire, "Ciel!"

"What?" He turned around to see the shop beside him; a brand new toy store had opened up, and not just any toy distributor, but one that almost pained him to look at. Funtom inc.; a company that catered to children with high grade toys and candies. The company that was founded and maintained by what was the Phantomhive family, now a boat adrift at sea. Ciel felt the hole in his heart widen as he looked forlornly at the shop's display.

Turning his gaze away from the shop and taking a step forward to continue on the path back home, Ciel noticed that his right hand was empty; Dahlia was missing. Looking at the shop door, he caught a glimpse of scarlet ribbons disappear into the interior before the door shut.

Sighing to himself, he walked in after his charge, praying that the girl would hurry before the sentimentality continued to spear him.

Dahlia marveled at the many toys scattered throughout the small shop; hot air balloons danced overhead, music boxes played as ballerinas twirled and couples spun atop pedestals, locomotives ran tracks around the room, and magnificent porcelain dolls sat under golden arches and observed their would be owners as the children within the shop clamored around them. She walked over to a table displaying a couple stuffed animals having a tea party upon a tiny table and chairs, complete with a delicate set of miniscule utensils and favors. She grasped ahold of a bunny with a pocket watch, and turned it about in her hand, feeling it's cloudy softness against her palm with a little giggle of glee.

Ciel felt the pang of nostalgia as he gazed about the store, his eye falling on a pair of boys who sat at a table, playing a board game.

"Entranced by the eyes of the dead! Loose a turn!" one boy cheered, as the other sighed in defeat. Ciel shook his head and looked elsewhere, deciding to follow the little train as it made it's everlasting trek about the room. He wondered to himself, as the train traversed a glass lake, how did it come to be that the company would continue to prosper, even though the captain had been taken from the helm. However, the truth was that the boat of industry still maintained a captain; and though a mutinous, demonic, detestable creature, it still was capable of steering the ship. Ciel did find it ironic, however, that the many toys of the Phantom company still maintained their former charm and glory... and noted that there were hardly any new developments; mostly old tried and true products that had been the company's main headliners for years.

"Ciel!" Dahlia trotted up to him, grasping his hand excitedly and tugging him towards her, "Come! I found something I want!"

Ciel followed after her, as she led him to a display mimicking the story "Alice in Wonderland". Beautiful, delicate dolls were posed inspired by their roles; the Red Queen brandishing a vicious axe and dressed in deep bloody scarlet, as she looked both beautiful and destructive, while sweet Alice, with a curious disposition, held a deck of cards in one hand, a mouse perched on her shoulder, a tiny bottle hanging from a necklace around her neck, and a teacup in the other hand. The Mad Hatter loomed over an intricately set tea table, accompanied by the illustrious March Hare, and a doll with cat ears sat in a display tree, one leg dangling down, elbow resting upon the bent knee and palm supporting his head, as his lips were curved in an almost cruel smile as he observed the mad people below him.

"I would like these, please!" Dahlia begged, gesturing toward the set with enthusiasm. Ciel looked at the set, calculating the prices in his head. Though the child was more than capable of affording such luxuries, the rate that the 'mother' burned though money was absurd, and the thought of passing such a trait to the daughter was not within the butler's agenda. Still, Dahlia had surpassed many expectations, and she did need a little escape from the Hell that she had to endure as well, though she was too young to realize it.

Ciel sighed, before he nodded, "Alright."

The girl cheered happily, before she went over to the shop keeper and informed him of what she wanted to purchase. The old man smiled and made his way over to the display, grasping the delicate dolls carefully and shuffling over to the counters, lining them up to prepare them for safe transport.

As Ciel went over to the counter to pay for the dolls and watch as they were wrapped up in neat boxes, Dahlia dallied about the shop, taking in the rest of the sights before they had to leave. As she followed the elaborate displays that began to scale the walls, her gaze fell upon a lone figure that stared down at her.

A single doll observed the world through one sapphire eye, perched high up on the wall in his own throne nestled in it's own nook embedded in the wall. Adorned in an elegant long blue dress jacket emblazoned with little silver buttons and covered in intricate black lace trim, accompanied by little black shorts, and beautiful calf length boots. Crowned with a deep blue top hat suited with a beautiful black silk ribbon and little blue shining stones, and slender neck tied with a lovely black ribbon with a blue silk rose, the little doll looked particularly regal over it's porcelain subordinates. The most noted feature, despite all the distinguished fashion, was a black eye patch that covered the other eye from view, so that the one eye shined alone; a blue stone in a sea of milk.

Dahlia was captivated by the doll, and as she glanced at her butler's back as he continued the transaction, she felt the overwhelming need to possess it. The height at which it was positioned proved to be a daunting task, and she bounced up and down in an effort to reach it, swinging her fingers and barely reaching the nook in which it was perched.

An anonymous hand grasped ahold of the little doll just out of her reach, and the doll came down into her outstretched hands. Cheering happily, she snuggled her little boon with relief, before looking around to find the helpful person. However, the person who had given her the toy had melted into the mass of customers, and so she settled to call, "Thank you!" before walking briskly over to the counter.

"Ciel! I want him too!" she chimed, placing the little doll on the countertop in front of him, and pushing it towards the shopkeeper; who was busy tallying the bill.

Ciel's eye widened at the little doll. The striking resemblance forced his breath to leave his chest, and the hole in his heart to expand. The doll was an exact replica of him; a memory of his former life shaped from real porcelain flesh. As the little crystal eye stared up at him, he could feel an overwhelming emptiness and longing that was indescribable. He wanted the little doll to leave his sight, immediately, and he turned his attention away from it to look at the pleading, yet anxious face of his small lady.

"He doesn't go with your set," he said simply.

"It doesn't matter," Dahlia said, her fingers touching the soft fabric of the doll's jacket, "He's so beautiful, I really want him as part of my collection."

"What if he doesn't want to be part of your collection?" Ciel said coldly.

"Huh?" Dahlia looked up at her butler with curiosity, and with a little annoyance, "Why would he want to remain up in the wall alone for? He's stuck up there without any social interaction. He'd probably be relieved to be with other people, wouldn't he?"

"You're talking about a doll," Ciel scoffed, before he noticed the shopkeeper in a bind over whether to tally the little doll's price as well. Turning his own distress on the old man, Ciel decided to find out the origin of the detestable tribute to his former life, "What doll is this?"

"This one is new, limited edition," the man said, taking the little doll and holding him up. A little tag hung from the doll's jacket, and his withered fingers grasped it, turning it to read the fine print that displayed the name of the doll, "this one is called Faust."

"Faust?" Dahlia inquired, tilting her head to the side, "that's a cute name."

Ciel was silent. The doll had not been made as a memorial to the late owner of the company. The man even acted as if he'd never heard of Ciel Phantomhive, the Earl of Phantomhive and owner of Funtom Inc.! Ciel could feel the bitterness sink in, though he knew he could not blame the poor shopkeeper, let alone reveal his own resentment for the doll's existence. The doll had been sculpted with dark attributes, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

"Dahlia, you bought enough for today," Ciel said coldly, "you can't buy that."

"Why not?" Dahlia looked up at him again with a little sad lilt in her voice, before she sighed and looked over at the shopkeeper, apologizing, before she smiled back up at Ciel, "Well, I'll get him next time I come."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't," Ciel said, as he reached into his pocket to retrieve his money purse, "You've plenty of dolls, you don't need that horrid one."

"What's wrong with the doll?" Dahlia asked, "He's adorable!"

"Disgusting little thing," the boy stated frigidly, as he held the money out to the shopkeeper's hand.

Dahlia looked back and forth between the forsaken doll and her butler, before she grasped the money in his hand and walked a couple feet from him. Quickly counting the available change, she whirled around on her heel and looked at him sternly, "I want him, Ciel."

"I said you can't have him," Ciel felt the want to just abandon the shop altogether, if not send the delicate porcelain mock up of himself crashing to the floor.

"You are my butler," Dahlia said, her blue eyes, normally so sweet, adopting a coldness that almost rivaled Ciel's, "So when I say I want him, I want him. We have enough for him, and mummy won't object, so buy him for me."

Ciel stared at the little girl for a long moment, before he bit with the resentment in his soul, "If you had any sense in your head, you'd never have picked it up. Buy the others, and leave it here. I will not spend another second in this stupid shop."

No longer wanting to be in the company of the despicable doll and the shopkeeper that peddled such rubbish, Ciel left his self reliant charge behind to pay for her own wares, and opted to escape to the street, waiting by the side of the shop, away from the display window and eyes trained at the grocery shop across the way, meditating on calming his rapid beating heart.

Abandoned within the toy shop, Dahlia could already feel the guilt settle in her soul, and nearly contemplated revoking the transaction altogether, as her gaze lingered on the back of her blank butler standing by the doorway outside. Looking back and forth between the money in her hand and the poor doll that rested on it's side, she reached for the Faust doll, holding him up to look at him carefully.

He looked so sad, yet so proud. A lonely king who was nestled so far into the wall in the dark that the other dolls had no hope of reaching him, and the chances of other children retrieving him, apart from her, were slim. As a limited edition, he would be the only one she could possibly acquire, but from the look of it, it hurt Ciel's heart for her to possess the doll. She felt a startling curiosity surrounding his reaction, and felt a need to inquire him about it later.

"Young lady," the shopkeeper broke her train of thought, and she looked up at him with a startled look on her face, "did you know that he belongs to a set as well?"

"He does?" she looked down at the lonely doll, "Where's the rest of the set?"

"I have it in the back," he said, leaving the girl standing by the counter for a moment, to shuffle off into the back rooms. After a few moments, the man emerged, holding in his hand a long black box.

He pushed it forward for her, and she sat the Faust doll down upon the countertop to reach for the oblong case, as the shopkeeper continued, "What's Faust without his Devil?"

Dahlia lifted the lid, and found within a most breathtaking doll; clothed all in a midnight drenched swallowtail suit, black halter vest, white silk undershirt, and little shiny black shoes; a butler's garb. Silver buttons lined his chest, and a single delicate chain swung across his abdomen; which yielded a little intricate pocket watch, no bigger than her pinky's fingernail, yet capable of flipping open and showing a little watch within. His hair was softer than feathers, and raven black, and his eyes, so beautiful. Little crimson orbs that looked so inviting, yet seemed to twinkle with a hidden emotion that lingered between dangerous and amused, depending on how deep you looked.

She turned the little box, taking in the appearance of the little doll with a breathless awe, before she looked up at the man and managed to ask,"How much?"

"He's very, very rare," the man said, reaching over to grasp the box from the little girl's hands, "I had him stored away for customers that can afford such a luxury."

Dahlia looked down at the cluster of bills in her grasp, and counted them again, before reaching into her own apron's pocket, and rummaging around for her own little purse. Pulling out a clump of her own change, she dumped it onto the counter and pushed it forward, "Is that enough for them?"

The shopkeeper tallied the money and related it to the price, before shaking his head sadly, "I'm sorry, little lady, but that doesn't quite cover the cost of the pair and your other dolls."

"Then subtract the Mad Hatter and March Hare. I don't need them," She said, anxiously looking between the forbidden dolls and the back of her butler that still lingered by the doorway, unshifting.

"Very well then," the man smiled and looked down at the girl, "I'm giving you a special discount, since you look like you're going to faint from the stress!"

Dahlia looked up at him for a moment, before realizing that her face was flustered with a bright red flush, and her breath was over-ventilating. Shaking her head and trying to calm down, she watched as he boxed up the two dolls and added them discreetly to the Wonderland set, subtracting the undesirables.

Transaction complete, Dahlia walked like a man condemned to the door to inform her escort of her finished purchase, and dreading seeing his face. Opening the door, she timidly rounded the young man and looked up at him, hands behind her back and fidgeting with anxiety, as she whispered, "Ciel?"

"You're done then?" Ciel looked down at her, calmly, though he had a stoic expression that did no favors to ease Dahlia's guilt.

"Yes, I'm done. Can you help me carry them, please?" She asked, politely as she could, hoping that the boy's face would defrost.

Ciel turned and went back into the store, and Dahlia followed after him. As he grasped the parcels, her eyes lingered on the two immersed boxes that housed her secret treasures. When he turned to look at her, holding the stack, she smiled softly, communicating her gratitude.

"Let's go home, okay?" She said, heading for the door and holding it open for him to pass through without trouble.

The walk home was quiet, and Dahlia kept looking from the boy's face to the parcels in his arms, deep in thought as to why he had acted so strangely within the toy shop. Though she wanted to ask, she felt a dangerous aura about the boy, a frigid barrier that even she couldn't penetrate.

Ciel continued to think about the doll, and how it looked so much like him. He also wondered why Dahlia had been so drawn to it, and why was it that the doll looked like him, yet bore a such a cruel name. The shamefulness of it all pained him, as if it was a sick joke. Had the company forgotten him so, that they would create such a thing without thinking it looked remotely like him? How could they have named it "Faust"? Though the name was appropriate, the disturbing remembrance of the years that passed, the life he led, and the life he fled from, continued to dip his mind in a bleak haze, and he blamed that little doll for it all.

"I'm sorry, Ciel," she whispered, "I don't understand why you're angry, but I want to make you feel better. So, be happy again, okay? For me?"

At least the doll had been left behind, to rot within that store and far away from him... or so he believed, as the little girl next to him grasped his arm and rested her soft cheek against it, nuzzling in apology as she often did when she felt guilty and wanted to please him.

"Don't worry about it," he said, taking a left from the main road and heading down the lane leading to the manor.

"Let's have tea when we get home, alright?" She smiled up at him, "Earl Grey, with sugar cookies!"

Ciel sighed and nodded, "Very well then."

As they neared home, Ciel couldn't help but feel a shiver run along his spine, as if he was being watched. Pausing for a moment to look around, his eyes managed to fall on a cluster of black birds perched high above him on top of a balcony, cawing loudly. He felt a small tremor of fear, as the ravens overhead continued to jostle and sound, before he felt a small tug on his sleeve. Looking down, he saw Dahlia looking up at him with a worried expression.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, curious.

"Those birds are noisy," he scoffed, before he went back to walking the lane, though deep in his soul, he was beginning to feel a small sense of dread, which he hoped was just mindless anxiety. He pushed his concern of the filthy animals away, and focused on reviewing the list of chores to do once he crossed the house's threshhold.

Confused by his strange behavior, Dahlia followed after her butler, a new field of questions brewing in her little head.

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Chapter 18~! Chapter 19 coming soon!

I took the liberty of altering the titles of Part 2 to fit more appropriately. Straying away from the uniform animalistic themes. So, if there's confusion, I apologize.

This was a little bit of a nonsensical episode, though it was fun to write! A little more in depth look at the relationship between Ciel and Dahlia. The dolls described are supposed to look like those ball-jointed dolls, by the way. Slender styled, rather than the traditional cherubic porcelain dolls.

Anyway, chapter 19 will be along soon! Thank you all for reading "His Butler, My Master" and for all your awesome reviews!


	19. Chapter 19: Spectacle

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

To those of you wondering; _Spectacle_ means _Performance _in French.

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**-19-**

**Spectacle**

Since his return home, the many relentless duties of a butler had him cleaning the house to a fine shine, assisting the small lady, preparing meals, doing the laundry, and handling the finances. He had spent an entire two hours attempting to clean dried blood from the persian rug that lined the hallway in the upper corridor, and before preparing a bath for Dahlia, he tried his best to scrub the evidence of previous night from the porcelain tub.

As he worked, the darkened haze that plagued him did not subside. The continued feeling of dread still lingered in his bones, and the fingers of anxiety dragged it's nails along his spine and over his shoulders, occasionally gripping his stomach and squeezing so hard, he felt like he'd loose his meal.

The doll had been a sign; he was certain of it. A sign that somewhere in the darkness, the wolf was going to pounce upon him and gobble him up, and deep inside him, Ciel could feel the overwhelming despair bubble and froth. The crimson gaze that had burned itself so deeply into his soul could almost be visible in his sight the more he thought about the demon, and it frightened him.

There was the instinctual fear of death that caused him to fear for his existence, but even deeper was the despicable shame that now rested on his shoulders. Six years of the crimson Hell had beaten against his strong resolve, and painful morbid memories of the bloody massacres, the sexual torment as he matured, the dangling glaive over his head every time he was reminded of his expiration date... every thought of it forced him to recollect the fateful night within the mausoleum upon the Plutonian Shores.

_"If it were I who was to devour a soul, I'd have it marinated in every spice of sin and torture that I could think of. Why invest so much energy in something that will not taste satisfying to the man who worked so hard to achieve it at the end of his day? Why not make him a symphony of flavors? Why eat him now, while he's been nestled in the lap of luxury? Make him taste what it is truly like to loose everything."_

Ciel could feel the overwhelming hatred overflow, and he placed all his resentment into scrubbing the blood stained porcelain pure white. The answer to why Sebastian was waiting so long to strike was not simply that he couldn't find him. No, their bond was deeper than any Ward could dispel, deeper than blood, perhaps even deeper than the soul harbored deep within him. He was waiting for him to be primed.

Had it not been Grell who suggested it? The six years of being submerged neck deep in blood and sin left Ciel a person who could barely recognize himself in the mirror, lost deep in the unfamiliar guise he wore. Where had the prideful Earl of Phantomhive gone? The one who had faced against a reaper, an angel, a demon... and lived this long?

Immortalized in that doll's horrible face; a painful reminder targeted at him, and only him. One that voiced with a vicious poison: _I know you're breathing out there... and I will find you._

So long ago, he had considered that fact a blessing, but now, he dreaded every anonymous noise that sounded from within his proximity. Once, he had offered his own soul up to be devoured without a single regret, now...

He scrubbed harder at the tub, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes as he worked, his own breath getting ragged as the memory of the pain he endured within rolled around like a storm at sea. The agonizing stab of pins, and the even more agonizing stab of seeing those once kind crimson eyes turn cold and cruel, and view him as if he was veal; pathetic, helpless, and tasty.

Eventually he grew frustrated with Jean Claude's remnants, and threw the bloody sponge against the side of the tub, drawing his knees to his chest as he returned to his fortress of limbs, in an effort to regain the calm mentality he had maintained.

Keeping a level head had been his only salvation the past six years. Forced to endure countless tortures of the mind and body within his short life, he tried desperately to keep his structured brilliant sanity intact with as much sealant as he could; though the leaks of pain and memory continued to leak through the vulnerable cracks. Every day had a lingering parade of memory, and it took all his will to push it away and concentrate on his tasks. The butler life had yielded it's own hardships, but focusing solely on his duties had helped him forget the pain of yesteryear. His new life was a battle between sanity and insanity, and had it not been for a couple minor distractions, he would have lost his mind the first month in the presence of the psychopathic crimson devil that now held his leash.

Grell had been a pushover, as Ciel learned early on. Though the first year was full of his own horrific assaults; minor cuts from 'obedience training', being deprived of food or sleep for days as punishment, horrible threats and dangerous hunts of hide-and-seek within the house, Ciel soon found he had an immunity to much of Grell's powers, and used them to his advantage.

Due to the Pain Threshold Rule established by William, Ciel learned to overreact to any sort of painful attack Grell set upon him, which put an eventual stop to the chases through the house with scalpels when he threatened to report him. Fearing for his probation to be revoked, Grell had relinquished the weapon's affected obedience training, and settled for a take on Sebastian's punishments.

However, those were short lived as well, when Ciel didn't comply, even when starved a day close to death. Bored with trying, Grell gave up, and just barked orders left and right, still spouting numerous idle threats throughout the house, though hardly ever following through. The boy continued to be disrespectful and still held the unbreakable hubris, even though he was in such a lowly position within the household. Despite this, he did follow through with his duties, distracting himself from the painful morbid life he led.

Over the years, Grell had learned, in turn, that Ciel was susceptible to regressing whenever reminded of Sebastian, and did everything to stab deep into Ciel's mind when he didn't behave; waiting until the last minute to recharge the Ward, threatening to throw him into the street doused with paprika if he didn't comply, and going out of his way to recall 'the Old Days'. The boy's reaction to the butler's name was satisfying enough, and the obedience that followed was truly a blessing, though Ciel would remain horrifically cold the duration of the day, as if defrosting his psyche from the frozen block of ice that it had hidden in.

Ciel could feel his body continue to shiver, and he wiped his eyes with his palm, before he stood up and looked down at the tub again, seeing a streak of blood left along the base. Taking up the sponge again, he knelt down and scrubbed hard at the remaining stain, knuckles white from the pressure he applied.

The most painful thing for Ciel was, beside maintaining his pride and his sanity, was that he wasn't completely devoid of Sebastian's control. He could still feel the pins flow within his veins; every time he considered breaking a direct order that had been engraved on his very soul. Every time he went home, looked in the mirror while drenched in some dead man's blood, and wished for death to strike him where he stood, a horrible pain would shoot through his head and course through his veins, sending him writhing on the floor. A pain without a cure, beside time. How many countless nights had he lay curled on his own bed, gripping his chest tightly and moaning in pain, as the pins continued to punish his thoughts of escape?

As he remembered, there would be no escape. Facing Sebastian would be his final moment, and every fiber in his body recoiled and dreaded at the thought of ever seeing that creature again. So much so, that it drove him to hold dead men up for his master to render limb from limb, kept him performing the most meaningless, endless tasks, dealing with the most horrid of people, and rearing a small child lost in the same crimson Hell as he.

Dahlia had been his true sanctuary; a single rose blooming from the pool of blood around her ankles. He had placed so much into her cultivation, it reminded him of a story he had heard long before, of a hopeless man who tended a withering tree within his prison cell, and upon the day it bore the sweetest fruit, he was granted freedom.

He laughed at his own foolishness aloud. _Me, free? Never. _

He was locked away, and he would never be set free from his binds, from his chosen cell that filled with a pool of blood every night, to wash away and stain him crimson every morning. All he could hope for, was that the tree he cultivated would grow tall enough to burst through the single window he looked up at every day. If not, then misery always loves company, and he will drag her down into his Hell with him.

The continued plague of wretched dreams, featuring those horrible crimson eyes, had followed him for six whole years, and he would have to deal with them until his personal Doomsday, which, after seeing the doll in the shop, he could feel slowly crawl toward him, like a cat stalking it's prey. It was only a matter of time...

Wiping the last drop of blood from the tub, he stood back and peered down at the shining white porcelain, and reached over to drop in the stopper, turning the water on so that clean, clear warm water poured forth and began to fill the basin.

Exhaling painfully, he walked over to the countertop and retrieved a bottle of milk, which he took out the glass stopper and poured into the bath, watching as the liquids mixed in billowing clouds. He added scent balls to the froth, and prepared towels and soaps for use by the bath side.

Grasping the cleaning bucket and hauling it up from the floor, Ciel surveyed the sanitized bathroom, before he dusted off his shoulders and headed out to find his small mistress for her evening bath.

**† † † † **

Everyone has a secret life. A dirty hobby that is best hidden in the late hours of the night where other eyes can not judge you. A forbidden fruit that once sampled, must be tasted repeatedly, without sharing with others.

Her obsession had led to her devouring any music she could find when she was a fledgling violinist; from the simplest sonatas to the most complex concerto, she ate them all. Her butler had helped cultivate the seeds of her desires when she was very small, and had shown that he had high expectations for her to meet, regardless her age. Fueled by the desire to gain his approval, she would practice day and night, and spent many restless mornings playing her little heart out in her bedroom.

It was once, during a dream, that she had encountered a strange music. A dream where she was surrounded by nothing but darkness. A single light, almost aura like and emanating from her own flesh, offered her only vision, which was of her own body, and of the instrument that she held clutched in her hand. Absently, she had lifted the violin to her shoulder, resting her chin against it and closing her eyes, before she felt gentle anonymous fingers clasp around her own. They lightly guided her hands along the instrument, and using her like a puppet, instructed her fingers on how to play a most beautiful song. It was soft, playful at first, like a plant breaking through the soil and reaching light for the first time, before it would suddenly pick up into a waltz like rhythm, and from there, she found the music to flow through her veins and play the violin without any reference, as if the notes were engraved on her very soul.

When she woke, she found she had ink all over her arms and legs, and when she looked around, she noticed that she was on her bedroom floor, and around her, as if in a shrine, were all of her dolls, once sitting, now standing up and gazing down at her with eyes that waited with lives all their own, surrounded by tall candlesticks that were written on with ink; which upon closer inspection, were musical notes. Where the candlesticks had come from, and how the dolls had somehow stood on their own, were beyond her childish mind to comprehend, but as she took a candlestick in one hand and a doll in the other, she noticed that the doll's clothing in the back were open, and etched on the flesh were little inked symbols.

Curious, she had placed the doll back onto the space, and looked down at the candlestick in her hand. Reviewing the notes, she placed it whence it came, and reached for her violin that lay on her bed. Pulling it up to her chin, and keeping her eyes open to read all the notes etched on the candles, she played the music from her dream.

To her amazement, and horror at the time, she realized that all of her dolls had begun to twitch. Ceasing her song, she scrambled back against the bed, only to see the dolls immediately stop where they were, and return to their lifeless states.

Further spurred on by her curiosity, Dahlia lifted the violin to her chin again and slowly played the song again, and watched as one by one, the dolls before her began to move on their own accord. Some jumped down onto the floor, and commenced to dance, as if in a ball, grasping each other's hands and whirling about in a uniform fashion. Some, who belonged to sets, would reenact their stories as if they were in a play; she watched as her long nosed Cyrano de Bergerac doll whispered in the ear of her armor plated Christian, who wordlessly recited his undying affection for her sweet Roxanne doll, who was rising from her bed upon a hatbox.

Since that day, Dahlia would stay up late into the waking hours of the night, playing her soft recital for her dolls as they would come to life and dance or play for her. It was a magic that she kept secret to herself, away from her skeptical, cynical butler and from her flamboyant, morbid mother. She knew that such magic was probably shunned; giving life to her toys was something she knew Ciel would immediately object to, and so she kept her hobby hidden. Every night, she would unlock her secret case; a miniature ebony armoire with red fabric on the doors, kept secured by a single lock, which was operated by a little black key she kept safe on her person at all times. From it, she would bring out her magic candles and line the room with them. In another dream, she had learned how to isolate specific dolls to perform, which involved a symbol etched on a piece of paper left rest beneath them. It was a circus that she could lead and enjoy herself, and alone.

Once bathed and tucked into bed, fireplace crackling with a comforting warmth, and setting her record to play for her, Ciel blew out the candle within her lamp and closed the door behind him, leaving his little mistress to slip off into dreamland.

Only two hours had passed since, and she woke up, and slipped out of bed to crawl over to her secret treasures. Once everything was ready, she walked over to the unopened boxes that were piled against one of her walls, and dug through them.

Sitting on her bed, she took a feather dipped in ink, and by firelight, drew the little symbols on each doll's back. The work took a good half hour, before she had a line of five dolls laying face down on her bed, as the ink on their flesh dried.

She took her Wonderland dolls and stood them up on the symbol, careful to balance each one carefully, before she went back to retrieve her violin. Lifting it up, she smiled softly as she began to play; a lilting melody drifting around the three dolls and waking them from their deep sleep.

Almost immediately, the Red Queen began to go berserk, swinging her axe haphazardly around, while Alice tried desperately to dodge. The Cheshire Cat, noticing the commotion, lackadaisically meandered about the chaos, before he scaled the nearest object, reclining lazily as it observed the scene below. Before the Red Queen could corner Alice and decapitate her poor doll, Dahlia ceased playing, and all three fell back to their lifeless states.

Amused by the little play, she lifted all three and opted to rest them by her bedside, sitting them all gently, before turning around and letting her gaze fall upon the two face down dolls that lay on her bed.

The overwhelming curiosity urged her to grasp the two dolls and lift them up. The one eyed lord looked so sad, yet so full of stoic pride, that she felt compelled to hold him with more care than the other dolls she possessed, as if it could shatter into a million pieces should her fingers skim it's surface wrong. She smiled softly as she rotated him in the firelight, letting his soft beautiful features entrance her. So much love had gone into his craft, she figured, as she tilted him this way and that, feeling the intricately embroidered fabric slide against her fingers. She loved his one dazzling sapphire eye, and as she looked into it's crystalline depths, she felt like she was looking at a familiar face, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Her curiosity then caused her own eyes to linger on the eye patch that covered the right eye; so out of place on the regal, adorably cold little doll.

Reaching down to lift it, she found that it refused to budge from the place it rested. Fearing that she would damage the face if she used her nail to lift it, she surrendered her need to see the other eye, and turned her attention to the other doll she had purchased, which for some reason, felt really heavy in her hand.

Turning it over to peer down at that beautifully sculpted face, Dahlia could feel her breath leave her chest as she considered the little doll in awe. It was so charming, so intricately crafted, yet so sturdy in design, that she couldn't decide whether to handle it with extreme care or if it could endure a fall to the floor. She ran her fingertips gently over the ink black hair, feeling it's unbearable softness, like fine feathers.

In the candlelight, the doll's eyes seemed to flicker already with a life all it's own, and though it was a little unnerving, Dahlia felt excitement bubble in her chest at the new story she'd observe from the two gorgeous toys.

Walking over to the paper, she stood the two dolls up, facing each other, and took a step back, reaching for her violin and positioning it to begin their introduction. The music wafted about the room, a lovely, life giving melody that twisted about the candlesticks and sought out the targeted symbols. Dahlia watched in intrigue, as the two little dolls began to twitch, and close their eyes.

It was immediate; the Faust doll suddenly toppled over onto it's back, sending it's top hat sailing off onto the tabletop. Dahlia almost stopped playing, before she noticed that the Devil doll had taken a few steps forward, and knelt down, picking up the fallen doll and lifting it up in it's arms, like a bride. The black doll then stood the other doll on it's feet, before taking the little top hat from the ground and positioning it back on the little doll's head. Dahlia watched silently, as the little dolls looked at each other, before the black doll reached out, touching the Faust doll's eye patch with it's fingers ever so softly, it almost seemed like it had a tender affection behind it. The Faust doll remained immobile, yet the black doll stood and stared down at it, until it knelt down on one knee, bending it's head down to the regal counterpart, as if swearing it's undying loyalty.

Moved by the act, Dahlia continued to play as the music flowed through her veins, her fingers playing on their own accord, a rather fitting sonata that drifted about the pair, painting their picture eloquently. She watched as the Faust doll looked down and, for it's first kinetic act, placed it's hand upon the black doll's head. The black doll then stood up, and grasped ahold of the little doll's delicate hand, the other hand placed on the other's side, and both danced around in a slow waltz in tune with her music.

Suddenly, upon the crescendo of her sonata, a sound of something falling behind her startled her, and she looked around mid-play into the darkness. Seeing nothing and continuing with her melody, she turned to look at her focused dolls, only to see to her amazement, the Faust doll had lifted his eye patch to reveal a deep amethyst orb; engraved with a white starry symbol that seemed to glow from within with a ferocity. His other hand was pointing straight at her, and she furrowed her eyebrows with confusion, as she contemplated what exactly was going on. That's when she noticed, that the Devil doll had disappeared from the tabletop.

Looking around while still playing, she searched around her for where the doll had disappeared, hoping that it would remerge someplace. After it didn't reappear for a couple moments, she felt a little concern as to if it had somehow fallen behind the table. As she bent down to look, her eyes met little crimson ones, as it launched out of the shadows, with something silvery glinting in the candlelight.

Screaming, she dropped the violin onto the ground, and covered her face defensively with her hands. She heard a small _thud_ on the ground before her. Peeking out from under her arm, she looked down to see the little Devil doll, lying on it's side, lifeless. Timidly, she reached down for him, shakily grasping the doll around the waist and lifting him up.

She heard a small tinkling noise, and looked down at his hands. Clutched between each finger was either a tiny knife or a fork!

"You stole these from my tea set, didn't you?" She whispered, reaching down to pry the miniscule utensils from the little one's grasp, and finding it quite a task. After wiggling each one free, she tucked them away in a drawer, and looked down at him.

"Did Faust set you on me?" she wondered, looking up at the blue clad doll that stood looking at her from the table. Though, upon closer inspection, she noticed that the little figure's gaze hadn't followed her when she was looking for the little dark doll, but rather straight ahead to the far corner of her room. Grasping a candle from it's slot, she walked to the other side of her room, and heard a small crunch beneath her foot, followed by a sharp pain. Gasping, she fell back against her bed and reached down to pull out a sliver of flesh toned porcelain from her sole. Wincing in pain and biting back tears, she looked down to see where the sliver had come from.

Her eyes widened, as she saw what was left of an angel doll she had propped up against the wall. It's face had been completely decimated, and it's body had been ripped to pieces by little incisions, which she knew were from the tea party utensils she had confiscated from the little doll in her hand. Looking down at it, she felt a balance of horror, and a continued build of curiosity.

"Why did you attack my angel doll?" she asked the lifeless body, before she looked back at the Faust doll across the room.

Determined to find out the rest of the story, she sucked up her courage and walked back to the shrine, standing the Devil doll back onto the paper and resuming the concert.

Again, almost immediately, the Faust doll toppled from it's place, falling off the table this time. Dahlia gasped and almost stopped playing to save it, only she watched as the black doll acted in a flash, jumping down from the tabletop to catch the Faust doll on the floor. Despite being rescued, Faust lay unresponsive, and the little black doll traversed the carpet, past Dahlia's feet, over to the fire.

Worried of the black doll's intentions to her other possession, she followed it closely, though it didn't seem to take notice of her. It knelt down in front of the fireplace, and carefully laid the Faust doll down onto it's back, placing it's hands over it's chest carefully, before it got onto all fours and planted a soft kiss upon it's lips.

The Faust doll suddenly jolted, and the black doll backed away from it, as it rose onto it's forearms. Suddenly, the little doll got up and bolted across the room, running into the shadows as the little black doll's crimson eyes followed it. Dahlia, wondering why exactly the Faust doll had fled, left the black doll by the fire, and crouched down to where the Faust doll had fallen down.

From the shadows came a shaking, clothing deprived Faust doll, fine grey hair tousled as if it had been through a windstorm.

"Where's your clothes?" Dahlia asked, as it looked up at her, shivering.

The little black doll suddenly approached the Faust doll, in it's arms a little black suit like it's own. The Faust doll declined, snubbing the outfit.

"You need clothes, silly!" Dahlia giggled childishly, as the black doll insisted, continuing to pester the little Faust doll. Eventually, the black doll left the clothes on the floor, and walked back over to the fireplace. The Faust doll looked down at the clothes, then up at her, before it grasped ahold of the clothing and pulled it on, though a little clumsily.

"That's better," Dahlia smiled, before looking around her and beneath the table, "though, I did like your other outfit better. Where did it go?"

Before an answer could be suggested, she looked back up to see that the dolls were back on the table top again. The little black doll had begun circling the Faust doll, bothering it again. The Faust doll ignored it, remaining stoic and unresponsive to the doll's pestering. No matter what the black doll did; twirl it, poke it, shake it, the little doll refused to respond. Eventually, the black doll took a position behind the Faust doll and began pressing on the back of it's delicate head, which Dahlia was afraid would give in and shatter into little shards, like her poor little angel doll. No matter the pressure, the little doll refused to bow for the black doll, and it seemed to annoy the Devil doll greatly, as it applied more and more pressure to make the doll's back bend, going so far as to use two hands. Still, the Faust doll refused to obey.

As her internal melody rose, a darkened tone that bore a foreboding air gripped her violin's voice, and she watched in speechless captivity as the little Faust doll looked up from it's blank gaze, up into the eyes of the Devil doll. The violin's voice shot up into a piercing shrill pitch, and the Faust doll suddenly shoved the black doll with all it's force, forcing it over the table side to crash on the floor below. Luckily, Dahlia ceased her song immediately to rescue the poor thing before it collided, and she held it in her hand, trying to catch her breath.

As she looked down at the fallen doll, the eyes that stared up at her seemed to harbor something so deep and indescribable, almost like a horrible pain, yet covered by something much more sad. It seemed to linger in her eyes, and it pained her to stare into them. Looking up at the Faust doll that had assaulted his counterpart, she almost decided to put them away, until she thought, '_That can't be the end of the story... I want to know what happens next._'

For the final time, Dahlia lifted the two dolls to stand up on the symbol, and lifted her violin to play the final concluding melody.

The Faust doll suddenly flew from it's position, scrambling down the obstacles in its way between the table and the floor, trying to safely scale the opened drawers and boxes in order to escape the doll that stood watching him with crimson eyes, not moving from it's place on top of the symbol. Dahlia looked down as the little doll ran to her knee and clung to her skirt, burying it's face within the folds of her fabric.

"There there," she whispered, trying to comfort the doll, "He's sturdy, he'll forgive you for the push."

She was about to confirm her soothing statement with a 'Right?' towards the little black doll, but what she saw made her eyes widen with fright, and her words freeze in her throat. Though she wanted to abandon her song right away in a fit of panic, she found her fingers frozen in an unalterable rhythm, unable to pry them out of their orchestration.

Those crimson eyes were trained directly on her, burning deep into her own eyes as she looked at him. Unreadable, yet so viciously dark that it was almost suffocating. Suddenly, the doll launched itself from the table up into the darkness of the room. She whirled around, looking for it in panic, as one by one, the candles were snuffed out.

Bathed in the firelight of the crackling fireplace, still playing her haunted violin, she looked around desperately for any sign of the black doll, before she suddenly saw something come flying straight at her; a flash of bright purple in the dark, before suddenly, with a small shriek, she was able to break away from her instrument; killing all action and noise within the room, save the rapid beating of her own small heart, and her ragged breath as the fear and anxiety slowly ebbed away. Getting up and clutching the little Faust doll to her chest, she took a step forward into the darkness, and felt something lightly bump against her toes.

Stepping back, she saw that the little Devil doll was once again laying on it's side, and in it's hand, a slender silver knife.

"You wicked little thing!" she hissed under her breath, picking it up and scolding it, "See if I ever play for you again."

Her heart still thudding in her small chest, Dahlia walked across the room and grabbed all of her secret treasures, cramming them into the miniature armoire. Looking down at the now harmless, beautiful doll in her hand, she paused, considering if she wanted to pose it someplace befitting it's beauty, before she remembered the ferocity of those crimson eyes, and felt a pang of fear. She tucked the wicked doll into the armoire, closing the little doors and locking it with the key.

Clutching the little Faust doll to her chest, she looked at the broken remnants of her angel, and sighed heavily, "I don't understand your story, but I'd like to find out."

Cleaning up the remains of the porcelain massacre by pushing the evidence under her bed, Dahlia straightened up her room, finding the Faust doll's formal clothes in the process. She dressed him back into the beautiful attire, and laid him to rest within a drawer all his own, cushioned with a silk pillow. Figuring him content, she crawled into her own bed, and pulled the covers over her little head, trying to doze off into dreamland, and forget the scary moments the night had produced.

However, those little crimson eyes continued to burn even in the safety of the Sandman's grasp, and little Dahlia found her dreams very restless that night.

----------------

Chapter 19! YAY! ^^ It was pretty fun writing this chapter! Course, I ended up freaking myself out... *sighs* Scary dolls.

Anyway, next chapter will be coming out soon! Stay tuned!


	20. Chapter 20: Habiller

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _H__abiller _is _Dress Up _in French.

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**-20-**

**Habiller**

"You were up in the middle of the night again," Ciel sighed, as the found the small child sleeping in a chair by the door of her arithmetic tutor's house. She looked up at him, eyes attempting to adjust to the light as she rubbed them feverishly.

"I wasn't," she insisted, before letting out a long yawn and letting her little head dip back into sleep for a short second, "I had a bad dream last night."

"Hmph," Ciel scoffed, kneeling down to fix her outfit that had become crumpled from her slump in the chair, "that's no excuse to fall asleep during your class. There's nothing for it, I'm going to have to quiz you on the way home."

Dahlia groaned, half asleep, as her butler pulled her up to her feet and straightened her out. Grasping her student case and her hand, and with a nod of regards to her tutor that was observing them with skepticism from the salon, they headed out into the street.

Along the way home, Ciel commenced asking his little charge complicated arithmetic equations, which she answered as she tagged alongside him, though after a couple questions, Dahlia refused to respond. Looking down, thinking either he had stumped her, or she had lost interest, Ciel noticed that the little girl's attentions were fixated elsewhere.

A massive group of people were jostling about and making so much commotion, it reminded him of a chicken farm. They were all focused on something heading down the opposite road, and he could barely make out over the heads of the people a mound covered by a thick canvas cloth. that was slowly moving onwards down a lane.

Clicking his tongue and wanting to avoid the cluster of chaos, Ciel tried to hug the wall of a storefront, though a man running by clipped him, forcing him to spin aside and relinquish his hold on Dahlia's hand. Following the man's back with a deadly glare, Ciel scoffed at the rudeness, before noticing that, at the first opportunity of freedom, Dahlia was heading towards the mass of bodies. Utterly annoyed, Ciel took off after her.

Spurred by a child's never ending curiosity, Dahlia pushed her way through the crowd towards the center of attention; a small troupe of people were pushing a set of carts through the city streets, some stopping to announce in multiple languages the marvels that the canvas kept hidden from prying eyes.

"It's a most amazing marvel! One that we hope the lovely city of Paris and all it's citizens will enjoy!" a massive man dressed in an elaborate royal purple coat declared with a heavy British accent, gesturing with his hands to accentuate his pitch.

"What is hidden beneath the cloth?" a man shouted from the legion of curious onlookers.

"Something so outstandingly delightful, the people of Paris will enjoy it for years to come!" the man announced, taking a deep bow, "It's a gift from the Queen of England herself, as a token of longevity, peace, and delight for the people of Paris, nay, France itself!

Dahlia looked beyond the man's outstretched hands at the cloth, and noticed that something was peeking out from beneath a fold. The promise of something 'outstandingly delightful' urged her to sneak a peek. Looking around her, she wormed her way through the crowd, until she was alongside the cart. Making sure that the man was distracted enough by his loud declarations of the anonymous 'miraculous thing', she reached over to lift the canvas a tiny bit, to catch a glimpse of what lay beneath.

A large, soulless black eye gazed up at her in a mass of milk.

Suddenly, a hand grasped ahold of hers, and she cried out, whirling around, before noticing that it belonged to a rather upset looking pale butler, who's cold sapphire eye was already communicating just how many more arithmetic equations were awaiting the rest of the day for her due to her antics.

"Oi! You shouldn't be near that! Get away from there!" the declaring man approached them, waving his arms at them in a 'shooing' motion, face red with anger that they had trespassed on the sheltered secret cargo, "No kids allowed there! Away with you brats!"

"Excuse me," Ciel said frigidly, not taking kindly to the fact he was being ushered away so rudely, let alone being referred to as a 'brat', "Who do you think you're addressing here?"

"Someone who shouldn't be looking at what's beneath the canvas until the grand unveiling!" The man scorned, taking the canvas and jerking it downwards to cover the forbidden cargo, before glaring down at the little girl who hid behind her escort's arm, peeking up at him. Upon seeing his disrespectful look, she came out from behind her flesh shield and jabbed a finger at him.

"Excuse me, sir!" She said sternly, "You're addressing the daughter of Madamoiselle Rouge, and her butler," she paused to address Ciel with a little look of acknowledgment, if not support for her challenge towards the behemoth who looked down at her, "and I will not tolerate you speaking to either of us with such a disrespectful tone."

"Ooohh... so you're a little lady of high esteem?" the man teased, as he leaned down to her level, and she gazed up at him coldly with her aqua blue eyes, trying to keep a serious look that demanded utmost respect, regardless the opposition.

"Of course," Dahlia puffed up her little chest, trying to look taller and keep up a strong front, "the highest."

Ciel mentally sighed at the little girl's missing modesty, before he noticed something peculiar from behind the carts; a little black shadow slunk about the wheels, avoiding being treaded upon, head looking up at the sheets that hung above him. Upon noticing the azure eye that observed it, the little cat bounded across the lane, padding up to him, though Ciel made no effort to acknowledge it's approach, as he observed his little mistress handle the impudent British titan.

"Well, then," the man, exhausted with the difficult on-going debate and noticing that his fellows were impatiently waiting for him by the halted carts, "when the amusement is finally unveiled, you will be among the first to experience it, this I swear unto you, young lady."

Not satisfied by his soft attempt to get away, Dahlia placed her hands on her hips, and tilted her head, "And how do I know that you'll follow through with this promise?"

"You said you belong to a Madamoiselle Rouge?" he said, digging into the breast pocket of his royal purple raiment, and withdrawing a small light blue silk pouch from it's depths.

"Yes," Dahlia nodded, her eyes following the little bag with curiosity.

"Then we shall send notification to your home, I'm sure you'll be easy to find," the man wormed his fingers through the little purse, causing a soft tinkling sound to rise up from it, which only piqued the little girl's interest. With a small 'Aha!', the burly englishman produced a small glass bauble on a chain, holding it out towards the little scarlet maiden.

Accepting the trinket, Dahlia observed that it was a tiny glass horse, suspended by a little silver chain that was barely thicker than thread. It looked so fragile, that she immediately turned to Ciel and handed it to him, confident that he would handle it better than she. Ciel inspected the little horse closely, turning it about in his hand.

"When you receive your invitation to the unveiling, the little lady should be wearing that at the time. It'll guarantee you will be the first to experience the Queen's marvelous gift!" the man made a swooping bow, punctuating his statement, before he rose up and walked away without a farewell, continuing the carts' trek down the streets of Paris while shouting his praises for all to hear.

Once the carts disappeared, the group of people disbanded, and Ciel and Dahlia were left in the center of the lane. Reaching for his watch to see just how much time they had wasted with their delay, Ciel's eyes widened, and he quickly pocketed the little necklace and the clock to grasp ahold of his small lady's hand.

"We're really late," Ciel groaned, pulling her along after him as he walked briskly down the street. He mentally cursed himself for the distraction, and prayed that by some miracle, Grell either had forgotten that he ordered Ciel to be present at his next appointment with the RedGrave fashion developers, or that he had played hooky all together and was sprawled out, incapacitated, in some shady corner of France. Othello bounded ahead of him, landing on the porch and turning to observe them with a swish of his tail, as if in warning.

Pushing the little cat over with his foot again, Ciel unlocked the door, only to have it open on it's own, and reveal a very, very irritated man dressed all in red, emerald eyes flickering with a deadly shine.

"You. Are. Late," he growled, before grabbing a fistful of Ciel's shirt and hauling him into the hallway rather violently, and tossing him into a chair, slamming and locking the door as he assaulted him.

"OW!" Ciel shouted, before he looked up viciously at the Death God, trying to lift himself out of the chair before a sharp black heel came down against his torso and pinned him against the chair's back, grinding into his flesh, despite his gritted groans of pain. He glared up at his master, before he said, "What the hell is this for?!"

Grell stood with his arms crossed, one leg up and punishing his impudent little lackey with a steady grinding into his ribcage, his eyebrows furrowed in an angry, deadly glare, "You left me high and dry, and thanks to you not being here, I had to cancel my appointment! You know how the stains fade over time if they sit too long! They're the reddest when they are fresh! We spent all of Dying Day painting that lovely outfit, and when the people that actually MATTER show up, you are off screwing around with my daughter instead of being here showing off my work!"

The heel dug deeper, and Ciel was pretty certain that it was about to break into his ribcage. He squirmed, his slender fingers scrambling at the boot to keep it from puncturing his fragile frame, "I was not screwing around! She ran off!"

"HA!" Grell kicked him in the chest, drawing out a loud, sharp cry from the boy, before he took a few steps away from the wounded butler, turning his back to him and holding his hands out, palms upward, "You should have left her then!"

"Are you serious?!" Ciel clutched his bruised chest, anger seething, "She's a child! You would have me leave her in the middle of Paris?"

"If she's dumb enough to run off, then who needs her?" Grell turned around with a dramatic flip of his long crimson locks, "I'm your mistress, therefore, your first and only priority! If I tell you to be here, you better be here, come Hell or high water!"

"If I would have shown up without her, we'd be having this same scenario, different discussion," Ciel bit, as he sat up in the chair, "I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't!"

"That's god damned right," Grell grabbed him by the neck, pinning him back against the chair's back once again, hitting the boy's head against the wood with a loud _thud_. Though he held the boy's fragile, slender throat within his grasp, he didn't squeeze down, though the temptation was alluring. Seeing that deep sapphire, doused in pain and fury, excited the Death God, sending little shivers crawling along his arm and up his spine. The two's infernal gazes locked and continued to burn violently, until Grell's lips curved into a wicked smile.

"You know," the crimson reaper purred softly with excitement riding under his tone, "Since you decided to screw around with Dahlia this afternoon, we'll just make up for our private time tonight."

Nausea bubbled up in CIel's throat, but he resisted the urge, and instead hissed his spite through gritted teeth, "I'd rather clean out the crematory then spend a minute with you, wretched thing!"

"Awww, don't go saying such things," Grell's fingers caressed the soft pale flesh beneath his fingers, before he tightened his grip, summoning a suffocated gasp out of Ciel's throat, "I might have to make you swallow your tongue."

Ciel could feel his head slowly dip into a haze for a minute, deprived of oxygen, before he felt the vice grip loosen, and Grell's tongue suddenly drag up the side of his face, causing the nausea to shoot up in his throat, acid burning as it frothed there. A cruel shudder bolted down his spine, making him writhe, and he groaned with disgust.

"Mmm~!" Grell smiled and ran his other hand through Ciel's hair, tousling it with a seductive allure, though a sadistic smile graced his face, as he considered the wrathful specter pinned down under him, "I've decided. You're coming with me tonight. We're having another Dying Day, and this time, you'll be wearing one of my _special_ designs."

Ciel's eye burned with malice, as his master stood up, hand sliding away from his tender throat to grab ahold of his tie, jerking the poor boy out of his seat and along after him, like a dog on a leash. Despite his heavy resistance, struggling against the grip of the lead about his neck, he was forced up the stairs after his crimson commander, to endure his other form of torture: Dress Up.

† † † †

Abandoned outside, Dahlia looked down at the cat that scratched and meowed at the door, demanding entrance and ultimately being denied. Dahlia shook her head at the little feline and sighed sadly, "It's no good. She locked the door, Othello."

Already accepting that he wasn't welcome, the little black cat sauntered away from her, choosing to curl up on the railing of the porch. Knowing from experience that once the door was shut, it was wise not to enter unless invited, the little scarlet maiden sighed and picked up her fallen study bag, clutching it to her chest as she walked over to the resting feline. She sat down beneath the section of railing that Othello lounged upon, and rummaged through her papers, finding a clean sheet and withdrawing her pen.

Lying down on her stomach, she started drawing on the paper, looking up now and again at the black shadow perched above her as it observed her art. She could hear from within the house shouts and groans, and sighed sadly, biting her lip as she wondered what had become of her friend, and feeling sharp pangs of guilt that it had been her fault that Ciel was being punished. If she had not run off, he would not have been late. As she heard a loud shout of pain from within, she sat up with a gasp and scurried over to the window, standing on her tiptoes to peer inside, though the heavy curtains blocked her view of the entry way from the parlor windowsill.

She stepped back and ran over to the door, trying to turn the knob, though it refused to budge for her. Feeling a sense of uselessness, she stood back and stomped her foot in frustration, before she heard a _meow _from beside her, and looked down at Othello. The cat rubbed up against her leg, before it padded off down the garden path, and slipped between the bars of the wrought iron fence that confined the Rouge manor.

Knowing that she would be nothing but a burden on Ciel should she open the door, she returned to her drawings, only to see that her pen had splattered ink all over her picture of the cat on the rail. She sighed in disappointment, before she noticed something strange. The splatters seemed to make a shape on the paper, and as she turned the paper this way and that, the more she was convinced that the ink blots looked like big black birds taking flight in the white landscape of the paper.

Putting it aside for later work, Dahlia sat with her back against the railing, covering her ears to the sounds coming from within the house, and closing her eyes, seeking refuge inside her own head. However, what flowed through her mind were not comforting thoughts, but rather recollections of the previous night; of dancing dolls and shadowy corners. One image in particular continued to reoccur; the little Devil doll taking flight throughout the darkened room, snuffing out the candles one by one, before finally leaping in to strike, before she saw a purple flash, and was able to cease the nightmarish waltz from it's deadly finale. Those little crimson beads would still be staring at her when she finally gathered the courage to open the box and rescue her treasures for further plays and dances, and it frightened her. That little doll was still in her room, waiting patiently for when she would finally unlock the doors that imprisoned it. As she thought about that little doll and it's twisted behavior, she slowly, reluctantly, fell asleep.

† † † †

"I can dress myself!" Ciel shouted angrily, as Grell secured his hands over his head in the bedroom, using a rope he had secured to the bed frame's canopy. The butler struggled, trying to worm his hands free from the twisted binds, before Grell pulled down on it so that the ropes pulled extra taught, instantly burning the slender wrists they confined with the friction applied.

"Stop being so difficult!" Grell said, tickling him under his chin, only to get the snapping of teeth at his fingers, "Ooh! When did you get so vicious?"

Ciel sat against the bed mattress, sapphire eye ablaze with warning like a poisonous snake ready to strike. The Death God took in the before scene with enthusiasm, clicking his tongue in contemplation before he walked over to a bed side table and pulled open the dresser, withdrawing a long pair of shears with deep scarlet handles. Rusty stains also covered the blades, and Grell smiled, caressing the side of his face with the cool metal, before sauntering back over to the little wriggling fish on a line that he had resting against his bed.

Without warning, Grell ripped open Ciel's jacket, mindlessly cutting the fabric away with the scissors in dangerous haphazard motions. Once or twice, the shears nipped the supple flesh beneath the targeted material, and Ciel hissed in resentment and pain, as a little drop of blood would slip from the little incision and drip onto the bedding with a small _splash_. Grell hummed excitedly as he continued stripping away the unwanted covering, ignoring Ciel's neverending protests, hisses of pain, and excessive resentments.

Before long, Ciel was dotted with minute cuts and little beads of his own blood welling up on his snowdrift skin. Grell took a step back, admiring the beautiful sight. The eighteen year old fresh, slender body, so delicate and soft, was covered in new lacerations, coupled with the many scars of the years that ran up and down the boy's arms and across his chest, and the mortal scar that still stretched inches from the boy's heart; the irresistible beauty mark Sebastian had engraved upon him, all painted the most beautiful picture. Grell drifted the metal shears against the supple flesh, smiling as it slightly thrilled the honest body, and caused the boy to shiver against it with disgust. Savoring the sight, he smiled with new, lust driven plots, seeing how easy a few more snips would make his goal. He clipped his shears pleasantly in the air at the thought, and smiled wickedly with emerald eyes glittering.

'_Business before pleasure_', the little voice in his head recited, and he reserved his ideas for another, less pressing time, as he walked away from the nude body surrounded by shreds of red and black fabric. Ciel continued to tug at the rope that held his arms above him, and groaned in frustration that he couldn't get himself free from such a primitive trap.

He looked up at Grell, as he came back carrying a couple random outfit pieces in his arms, dumping them down upon the bedside beside Ciel's hip. Taking into his hands a few garments and holding them up for inspection, Ciel's eyes narrowed in objection as each article of clothing looked either too scandalous or too feminine, and he scoffed with resentment.

"Like you have a say in what goes on you," Grell said, pulling on the rope so that the boy was lifted to his full height, though it proved quite painful, as the boy's wrists were being rubbed raw and his shoulders ached from being held up, "Let's see, what pretty thing should I dress my little doll in today? Since you misbehaved, maybe I should give you an outfit that reflects what a disrespectful, dirty little rat you are inside."

"You don't have a single article of clothing that can match what I am," Ciel jeered, the little cuts along his arms stinging, "you couldn't afford it."

"Oh ho!" Grell looked up and pinched Ciel's cheek hard, "Aren't you a naughty little bitch?"

Ciel glared coldly, shaking his head to remove the unwanted, painful contact, before Grell held up a black and white outfit; a white bodice with black ravens in flight, which was sewn to a four tailed white skirt that was opened in the front, with black gradient on each jagged tip of the skirt's tails that mimicked black levitating feathers. The white sleeves that accompanied the outfit were fitted with jagged black feather-like spires on the upper arms, with black briars twisting on the fabric down to the fingerless gloves, where they bloomed into a black silk ribbon rose on the top of the hands. The bodice was supported upwards by four black ribbons that descended from a black collar around the neck, from which bloomed a large white silk rose with black ribbon leaves.

Smirking, Grell began dressing his protesting doll, before long stuffing a wad of fabric into the boy's mouth to shut him up. He systematically adorned the boy, releasing one arm to shove the hand and arm through a sleeve, before returning it to it's noose before the boy could wriggle free. He smirked as he pulled up a pair of white shorts, fingers skimming over the boy's groin flirtatiously as he laced up the cords and synched them tight into a bow, drawing a groan of disgust from his victim. Securing the black collar about the boy's slender neck, Grell stood back to observe the new outfit. After a few moments, he squirmed with delight and clapped excitedly with anticipation of how he would transform the already exotic display to something to die for with a heavy splash of his favorite color.

Ciel could see himself in the three mirrors of the dressing room, and he could feel the nausea sitting in the pit of his stomach like a stone. The shameful dress disgusted him, and he refused to look any longer at the sight. His outfit looked so feminine, and it made him feel dirty; so much of his flesh showed, revealing his imperfections along his poor abused body. His legs had been only partly covered by the small pair of white shorts, which hugged his slender legs closely, cutting off nearly halfway down the thigh, and were only held closed by a black ribbon that laced over the crotch. The dress flared out, as if putting his lower half on display.

"I look like a tart," Ciel growled.

"I said I'd find something that would reflect the inner you, right?" Grell crooned from beside his ear, as he felt a brush suddenly slip through his hair. The grooming was vicious; the brush gripped ahold of the white hair, tearing at every knot and coaxing a little grunt from the host as it suffered. Eventually satisfied with the styling, Grell commenced slipping a white rose into his doll's hair, twisting the locks about it. Ciel hissed in pain, as he realized the thorns were still attached to the flower, and were forcibly being dug into his scalp as the reaper designed a hairstyle utilizing them. Long briars were lain about in his snowy hair, anchoring down to the locks and sensitive skin, causing fierce little tendrils of pain to shoot along Ciel's head.

"Teaches you to show up late, don't it?" Grell smiled, as he pressed down on a particular curl of briar, coaxing another little sharp inhale of pain.

After a few minutes, Grell finished, and he stood back once more to critique his final product. The fury that the sapphire eye bore was so deep, so ferocious, paired with the stitched closed eye in a permanent coy wink, the sight was so utterly irresistible that Grell's spine felt like it would snap from the shivers. The white fabric already bore little red blossoms from the little cuts along Ciel's flesh. Grell's smiled from ear to ear with anticipation, as he thought of what wonderful adjustments he would make to turn the already dead sexy design, into something truly divine. A blank canvas that bore so many possibilities for ultimate beauty.

"I can't decide though," Grell took up Ciel's face in his hand, tilting his head back and forth, "should I put make up on you or not?"

That eye, partnered with muffled poison commentary, convinced the Death God that the gore to follow later on would be the only make up he required. Satisfied with his preparations, he leaned down and grabbed ahold of the wad of fabric, pulling on the corner slowly, "Speak nasty to me again, and I'll make those pretty lips match your eye, got me?"

Relieved of the gag, Ciel only stared at him angrily. He felt the ropes lessen around his wrists and his arms fall down to rest in his lap. He sighed and looked up at himself in the mirror once again, getting up from the bedside to walk over to it. He placed his bare fingertips against the mirror's surface, touching the sad, shamed refection.

"Just think! Later tonight, you'll look ten times lovelier," Grell smiled, putting an arm around the silent doll and nuzzling against his neck. Ciel paid no attention to the violation, and only stared at himself, searching in that unfamiliar figure for the boy he used to be; the grand Earl of Phantomhive, master and Queen's shadow. Who looked back at him was a ghost; disrespected, violated, abused, and ashamed, bridled by a crimson devil who continued to make his pride sink beneath the waves of blood, drowning it.

Fingers clamped around the back of his neck, and pulled him away from the mirror, leading him out of the room, "Now, let's go have some real fun~!"

† † † †

Dahlia stirred from her sleep, as she heard a loud bang of the front door, and saw a white life sized doll be shoved out of the manor. Standing up, she trotted over to see what had happened. She covered her mouth with her hand as she saw Ciel, scantily clad in a lovely white and black dress, rise up to full height from the porch. His attire was quite cute, she thought, though she wondered as to why he wore lady's clothing. As she neared him, her little crystal blue eyes widened in realization that his beautiful clothes were stained with brilliant red dots; bloodstains.

Approaching the silent butler as she heard the sound of her mother rummaging for things inside of the house, she looked up at him sympathetically. Reaching towards him timidly, she lightly grasped his partially gloved hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice laid with guilt, "I wish I didn't run off like that."

Ciel didn't respond at first, nor did he even look down at her, until the sounds of Grell running up the stairs from within reached his ears. He looked down at her, his deep blue orb bearing little to no emotion at all, and still chilling the little girl to the core deep inside her heart, as he spoke softly,"I blame myself."

She looked up at him with a pained expression, before he resumed his waiting stance, looking into the house as his master ran around making final preparations for the reaping.

"Don't..." she began, before she heard the approaching rushed clicking of heels on the entry way, and saw a brief glimpse of her mother grabbing ahold of Ciel's neck, spinning him around, and pushing him off the porch, down the stairs and through the front gate, once again abandoning the scarlet maiden behind.

Hand outstretched towards their retreating backs, Dahlia slowly brought it to her aching chest, as she wished deep inside for something to make her dear poor friend's life better.

A cold, bone rustling wind suddenly picked up, and nearly pushed her a couple inches down the porch. Shivering, she ducked inside the house and closed the door behind her. Walking down the entry way and up the stairs, Dahlia passed by her mother's room, seeing the remnants of Ciel's beautiful suit scattered around and on the bed. Walking over to the flurry of fabric, she felt around in the shredded clothes, until she heard a small tinkling sound. Picking up the piece that had the pocket, she emptied it of it's contents; a silver pocket watch, and a small glass horse pendent.

Looking down at the delicate little trinket, she let it fall onto the rug with guilt, feeling undeserving of it. She clutched the little pocket watch to her chest, holding back tears as the memory of his gaze continued to twist inside her little head, drawing forth deep pangs of guilt. Dropping the pocket onto the floor, she drew her legs up to her chest and held the watch close, hugging it tightly as if it were her poor butler.

Thinking back, she had never seen him smile. Never a true one, at least, soaked in joy. She had seen victorious looks, subtle smiles of knowing, but never a bright, dazzling smile. He always wore a sad, lonely expression. No matter what she tried, she could never coax such a reaction from the cold ice prince. She had practiced so hard at her art to encourage a smile from him, but the most she received was a slight nod, or perhaps some praise, but never an overwhelming joyful expression. As she clutched the pocket watch close to her breast, she wished, hard, that somehow, by some way, things would happen that would coax a true smile to grace his lips.

Sighing deeply, she picked up her little horse trinket, and walked out of the macabre room. As she scaled the stairs up towards her room, she happened to look out the window at the bright moonlight that bathed the hallway in gentle light.

Placing her little hand on the cool glass window, she peered up at the brilliant white orb in the sky. Her attention was suddenly drawn away, as she noticed a little bit of movement below, and saw standing by the front gate; a tall black figure.

Her curious mind urged her to keep her eyes on the silhouette, wondering who exactly that it could be. The shadow yielded no features for her to distinguish. However, a subtle, minute feeling tickling the back of her neck, made her feel like the figure was staring straight at her. Going down the stairs, slow at first, she wondered if it was a visitor for her mother's work, and if it was wise to open the door and tell him that the adults were not available. As she came closer to the entrance, she could feel the small inkling feeling of fear stray into darker areas, and she quickened her pace to the door.

She could see that the door was unlocked, and she quickly clicked it locked, her breath catching with the inspired feeling of dread that whoever was standing by the gate was now in front of the doorway, mere inches from where she was standing. She could swear she heard the porch creaking with the sound of footsteps. With the wooden door being her only barrier, she chanced to see if the figure was near the doorway from one of the lounge's windows, peeking through a small opening in the curtains.

The figure was gone. Only the moonlit boulevard lay before her, devoid of human life. The only creatures she could make out in the shadows were a couple clusters of ravens that bustled from their perches above the street, and a fleeting shadow of a cat slinking lazily past.

Feeling foolish and over paranoid, she let out a little sigh of relief, as she turned from the window.

However, the feeling of dread did not disperse. For some reason, she could feel like the shadows were foreboding, closing in on her as she stood by the small crack of light. She entertained the thought of venturing upstairs to her bedroom to wait there until the adults returned, but a flash of memory concerning what waited in the shadows of her own room convinced her to remain where she was. Deciding instead to curl up on the couch, and bury her head under her arm, she curled up into a little ball and tried to return to dreamland. The shivers that ran along her spine, like a talon, made the task difficult, but she clung desperately to the need to drive away the scary shadows of her house, of the outside figure, and eventually slipped off into unconsciousness.

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Chapter 20! Chapter 21 should be along shortly!

I apologize for not updating sooner! My weekend has been a little chaotic, but I was able to get this done, so I'm relieved!

Oohhhh... good times to be had! Sorry about the unnerving Dress Up time. I drew out several designs for Ciel's costume in this chapter, and chose from the group what I liked. Since it's supposed to be Victorian times, things of the sexual nature were greatly suppressed, which is why Ciel's reaction to it being shameful is so high. Originally a LOT more was going to be shown, but I didn't like the idea of forcing Ciel to run around Paris pretty much naked. So, I designed something really feminine (more feminine than his usual depicted outfits [the party costume doesn't count]), yet tart enough to upset him. All's for the next chapter set up. I ended up in the end combining two chapters for this one, instead of the three, and combining three for the next chapter so that more things happen quicker. I'm really, really excited about the next one!

When I wrote this chapter, two songs in particular really inspired the scenes:

I used Sally's Song, sung by Amy Lee for writing Dahlia's character, and Kidnap the Sandy Claws, sung by KoRn to write the part for Dress Up Time.

Thank you all so much for your awesome reviews, and thank you so much for reading!


	21. Chapter 21: Violon

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning, this chapter contains mature situations not suitable for younger audiences. Thank you.

For those of you wondering; _Violon _is _Violin _in French.

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**-21-**

**Violon**

Within Pigalle, a man, overwhelmed by his drunken stupor to the point of sluggishly roaming the streets of Montmartre, basked in his drunken revels by casually shouting suggestively towards the many prostitutes that solicited their services along the streets. World blurry with the many colors of the red light district, Antoine Rousseau felt as if he was flying through heaven itself, and every warm bosom that beckoned out to him was like an angel offering blessings. It was on one particular block, surrounded by scarlet, royal purple, and dark black vixens, that Antoine noticed one particular angelic apparition that stood back against the wall of one of the nearby buildings; purest white with roses twisting in the wispy locks, creamy skin that promised to be soft as the clouds of Heaven itself, and alluring figure clad in such exotic intoxicating clothing, displaying tender thighs and beautiful slender legs. Antoine was convinced an angel itself had descended unto Earth just to offer the blessings of Heaven to him for a small earthly fee. Purse full, a confident, intoxicated Monsieur Rousseau pushed his way through the cluster of courtesans towards the small heavenly creature ahead. The rejected women slunk off into the corners of the darkness, leaving the world to just Rousseau and the delicate creature before him.

"Oi! You!" Antoine thrust a finger out at the angel, addressing it to attract it's attention. The heavenly creature continued to stare off at the distance, and so he continued to call; determined on his path to capture his little prey's attention before the he snapped it up.

As he neared, he noticed that the angel carried the very sky within it's body; a single window to the unearthly plane showed a clear blue world within it's slender delicate face, and it captured Antoine's heart and head in one net. Driven by his drunken desires, he reached out and clamped a hand down upon the angel's shoulder, tightening his squeeze upon the tender flesh and feeling sinfully soft skin brush against his fingertips.

His face flushed with lust, and he smiled, "How much?"

The angel didn't look directly at him. Instead, it stared off into another world, as if it's vision saw only heaven, despite it's body being locked on the earthly plane. Antoine repeated again, adding a couple lines of seduction to his offers, trying his hardest to lure the angel's vision to his own eyes.

"You must be an angel from Heaven," Monsieur Rousseau purred, looking the elegant body up and down; a ghost of heavenly pure light in a spectacular form, "I bet you charge a ton, don't you?"

Without a response, Monsieur Rousseau could feel his blood boil with something other than lust, and his grasp on the delicate shoulder began to tighten, "What? You think you're too good for me?"

He pinned the angel back against the wall with his body, hands on either side of it's head as he looked down at that beautiful image below him, a vision of the future, for sure. He leaned down to peer into that window, and found that clean blue sky to look so pure, so undefiled, that he was compelled to engrave himself in that glass.

"I wonder, do you have wings underneath that dress?" Antoine's hand went against the angel's back, massaging the small scapula and tickling along the spine. However, before he could get further, his own eyes beheld the window to Heaven, gazing straight into his soul.

"Did I catch your attention now?" he smirked, leaning in closer, in effort to defile those tender white lips with his own.

Suddenly, the angel's arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight grip, slender fingers gripping his own shoulder blades almost desperately, as if pulling him into the embrace of salvation. Antoine Rousseau smiled, driven with passion, as he planted rough kisses against the supple cream flesh, breathing in the clean, sweet flavor of the angel's body, dipping his tongue down beneath the black collar and slipping in a line up the angel's throat against the sensitive tendons. The angel neither shuddered, nor voiced any response at all, and it drove Antoine mad with determination to coax some other response than the fingers that were tightened so desperately to his shirt.

Determined to seal the deal, Antoine Rousseau slid his hand down from the angel's shoulders to it's ass, tightening his grip on the round cheeks before forcing the little body up against the wall to wrap it's legs around his trunk.

It wasn't very long, before Antoine managed to give a haughty look into Heaven's window, and he saw a new expression. Not a blush, nor a sweat drop, seductively sliding down the brow, nor a twisted expression of lust graced that face. Heaven did not shake with Antoine's gifted pleasure. What he beheld instead, was nothing short of Purgatory. Upon that delicate face, within that pure sapphire window, burned an expression that communicated intense suffering; one of repulsion, pain, disgust, hatred, worry, loneliness, shame, illness; a lost soul covered in chains, and it stabbed Antoine Rousseau deep in his heart of hearts.

His grasp on the angel's legs lessened, but the legs were hooked at the ankle about his waist, and those fingers continued to dig into his back, locking itself firmly about the man's body. The man was confused as to why the fierce angel continued to grasp him so, when the haunting expression still burned in his corneas; a devil's sharp blue blade cutting through the drunken stupor and piercing his mind with a sense of dread. He twisted a little in the angel's grasp, in an effort to coax the dangerous pleasure from his person until it was settled back into Heaven's good graces, but the angel's fingers were embedded into his shirt and tearing the seams, and the legs that were locked around his waist limited his ability to stand properly. The weight of the angel made Monsieur Rousseau's stance waiver, and he had to support himself by placing both hands on the wall.

That eye continued to stare at him, engulfing him in the darkness of Purgatory, Heaven so within reach, yet so far away. All he could feel was the cold blue stare, as if a demon had latched onto his soul and refused to let go. Desperate to rid himself of that stare, Antoine started yelling and clawing at the angel that bound him.

After a few desperate moments, the angel looked up at him, capturing his eyes once again in that corrupted Heavenly sky, locking his soul into place as if a pin had been shoved into his chest like an insect against a cork board.

It was within seconds that Antoine Rousseau suddenly felt the fires of Hell tear up his back in an ungodly roar of moving metal machinery, severing his soul from his body and into the next world with a ungodly scream of his own. Blood erupted in torrents from along his brutalized spine, spraying the Devil that had come for him with a raiment of shining fresh crimson, as it laughed melodically, watching the man and the angel fall to the ground.

Antoine Rousseau's final images were of that angel's face, with the window to Heaven, as it sat upon his chest, slowly soaked by the creeping scarlet branches of corruption, dipping the heavenly creature into the river of Hell and making it a devil rivaling the one who continued to jeer at him as he slipped away. Antoine's ferry to the underworld was that cold, cruel blue gaze, as it stared at him soullessly as his eyes dimmed and his body lay lifeless on the cold bloodstained streets of Pigalle.

Ciel was silent as he let his fingers slip away from the man's shoulders, and he made no effort to leave his perch, feeling the warmth between his legs slowly ebb away in rivers that flowed against his knees. The man's face was twisted in such a grotesque expression, that one would almost consider it passionate, if it didn't have eyes eternally reflecting the intense surprise and pain, and a trickle of blood oozing from his mouth.

Grell knelt down next to him and smiled wickedly, drawing little designs upon the man's face using the blood as paint, "Hehehe~! That was a fun little scene! Poor bastard didn't see it coming!"

Ciel stared at that face, feeling nothing within him, neither sympathy, nor nausea. It was just a warm chair, nothing more. He felt hollow, despite everything.

Fingers snapped in front of his face, and he slowly looked over at his master as he waved a hand in front of his nose.

"Yoohoo~!" Grell said, obviously irritated that the boy's general response was even more lacking today, despite the erotic visage he was adorned in, "Join me, won't you?"

Ciel stared at that face, so wicked, so cruel... splattered in crimson and smiling joyously that the man below him had fallen in his embrace, convinced that he was about to enter rapture, only to be cut down before he even began. The cruel trick for the simple, disgusting man who had moments before dared to inquire how much he charged for vile villains to trace their tongues against his throat and fondle his body. They had offered him promise of Heaven, to quickly snatch everything away and shove his soul into the darkness. Ciel couldn't decide what he felt for this person, nor could he manage to feel anything at all. Even the warmth felt like a faded memory in the haze his mind wandered through.

Suddenly, black leather clad fingers clamped down on his shoulders and pushed him over onto the street, into a pool of crimson blood. Ciel's entire back was soaked in warm blood, and he looked up at Grell with hollow eyes as the Death God loomed over him, mischievously smiling with those sharp teeth glinting in the flickering orange glow of the single street lamp.

"Not much of a splatter pattern today, but I know how we can remedy that," Grell pushed down on Ciel's shoulders, allowing the gore soak up into that shameless dress, watching the branches of crimson grow from the ground along his torso and legs.

Smirking, Grell giggled, "Oh my, you look like you've been up to something naughty."

Ciel slowly rose on his forearms, hair dripping wet and rivaling his master's in color; the pure white roses now stained red with Antoine's blood. Some of the black ravens now flew sunset skies, and the briars twisted in blood soaked soil, blooming beautifully from the human sacrifice. His back, soaked deep crimson, suggested a shameful, grotesque scene, and yet, Ciel felt nothing within him.

"You know, you're really starting to irritate me with this dead dolly act," Grell scoffed, taking a handful of gore and wringing it out over Ciel's head, mostly attempting to coax a response of disgust from the boy than finish the dye job. Response rejected, Grell pushed Ciel back against the walk and stood up, bored, as he grabbed ahold of his chainsaw and bounced it on his shoulder pensively.

"Working down here really brings back memories," Grell looked around, taking in the sights of the red light district, and blissfully recalling his days as the nefarious Jack the Ripper murderer, who slaughtered the whores of England, "Your aunt and I had loads of fun those days."

He had hoped that some sort of enraged response would be offered at the mention of his departed aunt, but the boy continued to stare off into nowhere, and it further annoyed him, "Until she decided to get all soft and dull, that is. One minute cutting up Mary Kelly with a smile, then whimpering over whether or not to plant her knife in you. So irritating, it made me sick. I'm glad I don't have to put up with such a simpering feeble woman anymore."

Opening one emerald eye to see if a deadly glare had been offered, he found himself disappointed, and further irritated, "Instead, I have her little nephew who I'm starting to get a little burnt out on, since he's deciding he'd rather act like a dead man than help me play with one."

Ciel stood up from the ground, blood dribbling down his body sluggishly. He couldn't feel anything within his shell; it was as if his soul had died along with the man who held him earlier, though he knew it was not the case. It was not the man's death that had shattered him so... nor was it the man himself. He could not find the cause for his symptoms, and the words that Grell continued to stab him with drew no pain from within. All he could feel was a haze, like a small prickling at his fingertips.

Before long, he noticed that Grell had become quiet, and that in place of the shrill voice, was a new sound; lingering and dulcet, drifting along the street like a flowing river of music. The voice of a single violin filled Ciel's ears and pierced him down deep inside his core, summoning up something within rivaling feeling, coaxing a single tear to fall from his crystal blue eye as it wrapped the melody around him. Slowly, he felt absolute repulsion, so deeply engraved into the shell he called his pride, that the disgusting man had even chanced to lay his grubby hands against his shoulder, let alone apply that ghastly swollen tongue against his throat. He recoiled, wanting desperately to wash himself and cleanse the memory of Antoine Rousseau from his body. He writhed in sickness, battling the newly birthed emotions that ebbed and flowed within himself as the music drifted around him.

Noticing an obvious change, Grell was now looming inches from his face, drifting a finger up along the side of his cheek, gathering up the fallen tear and inspecting it, "What's this then?"

"I want to go home," Ciel said quietly, before he turned to walk away from his master.

"Ooooohhhh no you don't!" Grell grabbed ahold of Ciel's neck, bringing him crashing up against his torso, "Playtime isn't over, my little doll, and you've been very naughty, so you're not going home until I say you do."

Ciel squirmed, trying to break free of the unwanted contact, though Grell enjoyed the game, and kept a firm grasp upon the slender neck, enough to draw the boy's fingers up in an attempt to keep his oxygen flowing, his other hand resting on the boy's chest, gyrating in little circles along the fabric.

"Maybe we should make the dress match the new you better," Grell smiled coyly, and grabbed a handful of the bodice, and tore a long piece free, ripping the beautiful dress and exposing more of Ciel's chest. The boy twisted violently, as slick black gloved fingers painted his torso with small spirals of blood.

"You're ruining your outfit, idiot!" Ciel coughed.

"No," Grell smiled and licked along the shell of Ciel's ear, "I'm improving it. This one's going to sell, I know it."

He punctuated his statement with a tear at more of the skirt, revealing more of Ciel's bloodstained legs. The boy responded by whirling around in the Death God's grasp, and pushing on the crimson wall that refused to release him, wriggling like a fish in a fisherman's hold.

"Hehehe~!" Grell giggled, releasing the boy's neck to run his black clad fingers through the soaked garnet hair upon his butler's head, "How cute~! Come! Dance with me!"

The violin's music continued to play with a fiery passion, as Grell forced Ciel into a clumsy whirl upon the garish remains of Antoine Rousseau, laughing joyously as the boy stumbled and wriggled in his grasp.

That eye suddenly blazed with a deep, resentful flame, and Ciel twisted violently out of Grell's grasp. He backed away, shivering from the cold, the resentment, and the darkness that seeped in and out of his soul, ignoring the stinging sensation around his neck.

"I am going home, NOW," Ciel said viciously, backing up further.

Grell tilted his head to the side, tapping the side of his face with his finger, considering the boy before him, weighing whether or not he was excited by the rebellious, vicious attitude, or insulted that the boy was once again being defiant.

"You do recall that it is MY house that you will be going home to. It's not like you can escape me, little Ciel," Grell's smile curled as he continued, "Need I remind you that you depend on me for your petty existence? You run away from me, and your little Ward will grow weak. You know what that means..."

Grell concluded his threat with a dramatic drag of his finger over his own throat in a cut-throat manner, smiling wickedly as Ciel backed away.

"I don't care if I die," Ciel bit, "Death is ten times better than living in this eternal Hell!"

"Oh?" Grell smirked knowingly, "So, you'd face Sebas-chan, dressed like that?"

Ciel looked down at himself, feeling the fabric cling to his body with the weight of the sticky drying liquid, seeing his tender flesh exposed to the night air, barely covered by the ruined garment. Looking at his own blood stained fingers, a lump became lodged in his throat as his mind drifted to the thought of facing his own personal demon, drenched in blood, dressed so dirty... shamed, and wretched. He could picture that smile as it graced his lips, knowing victory over the prideful soul that had escaped him and now stood in a tarty blood stained dress.

Grell put his hands behind his back and paced around the boy, "What kind of a reunion would that be, I wonder? I mean, moments ago, you should have seen the scene; a complete stranger putting his hands all over you, sliding his tongue along that beautiful neck, and you willingly embraced him and locked your legs around him! Don't you have any shame? You dirty little thing... you're no better than the ladies of this street now."

Ciel glared coldly, shivering as he backed away, wanting desperately to be anywhere other than in the presence of the devil that looked into his eye with all the cards. He knew that deep inside, his own personal sense of pride was being bashed over and over with the reality of his situation. He had accepted the man without any emotion; feeling nothing but hollow emptiness, waiting for the moment that Grell would have emerged from the shadows and wiped the man's existence from the face of the earth. However, how far would he have let the man go? Would he, in his locked mind, have let him continue further, waiting patiently? Would he have sacrificed his virtue to the scum on the sidewalk without thinking, just because it was his forced duty? Where had his shame gone? Lost in the blood and trauma, Ciel's mind reeled with questions, doubts, and the more he considered the demon's reaction to this current state, the more his cherished pride suffered. How would that face look? That handsome, horrible face that would surely be graced with the most horrible smirk, signifying his own dominance over him. As he continued to reflect, he felt his body shiver uncontrollably, fearing the thought of those crimson eyes boring into him, judging him, haunting him like they had been for six brutal years.

His mind became covered in a dense fog, and he wandered through the suffocating toxicity of his own shame and self loathing, hearing the somber notes of the violin that still trickled down the street. The song intensified and died, as if the source was neither far away, nor incredibly close. The music seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere, and though beautiful, it was tragically haunting, and somewhat chilling.

Grell looked around, bored with bothering the traumatic doll, and listened with interest to the violin's voice, "Hmph, I wonder where that music's coming from?"

Not willing to waste the energy searching for the source of the sound, the crimson Death God shrugged, and turned his attention back to tormenting his poor possessed little victim, only to discover that he now stood alone, the pulpy remains of Antoine Rousseau being his only partner available.

**† † † †**

Ciel ran hard and fast down the streets of Montmartre, desperate to get home, to cleanse himself of the plaguing memories of blood and lust that now stained his person, determined to rid himself of the visions of whores and drunken men as they paraded up and down the streets, blocking his way and jeering as he passed them. As he sprinted, the wind began to pick up, and his chest stung from the strokes of Cold's sharp nails as the cold wind blew heavy against him, impeding his progress. The further he ran, the lesser he saw people, and the harder the wind blew. Eventually, the chill grew too strong, and forced him down a side alley to avoid being blown away altogether.

In the darkened side streets, Ciel stumbled and shivered violently, rubbing his arms feverishly to keep them warm, but moaning in disgust as he felt the disgusting dampness of the caked blood on his sleeves. His only company was the omnipotent violin music, which wrapped about him like fingers and drew him into the embrace of sound. As he continued onwards, he couldn't help but feel like the music was growing louder, and a small fragment of his mind drifted to wonder just what lay at the end of the river of music.

He turned down several corners, migrating in the general direction of home, walking briskly as he could muster in the chill night air. As he walked down a particular stretch of corridor, Ciel noticed something drifting down upon the air, and found pressed against his flesh, a single black feather. Picking it up between his fingers, he looked up above him, and saw lines of ravens, all undisturbed by the vicious wind that continued to bite at him whenever he turned a corner.

Feeling a sense of dark foreboding, and his desperate need to rid himself of the stains upon his person, Ciel broke out into another desperate run, despite his lungs burning in the cold air. He turned down another corner, traversing the labyrinth blindly with only the biting need to cleanse himself urging him onwards. The hope that a bath would wash away all the memory, all the shame. The feeling of that unfamiliar person's fingers against his skin, the tongue, the bloody dance, the exposing of his flesh... he wanted it to drain away. Once before, when he was offered cleansing, he had shouted that he would never indulge in such a thing, that every ounce of his experience and his hate were what made him who he was. However, now, after six years coated in every ounce of shame and disturbia, cleansing was the only way he could keep his precious sanity. He couldn't wash his hate away, but he could wash all the evidence of the dementia, and now, as his lungs ached and his limbs burned from his desperate flight, plagued by memories that ripped and tore at his ankles and back of his head, the crescendo of the violin as it's own voice intensified flooded his ears and his chaotic mind, and as he turned down one darkened corner, Ciel wanted his personal salvation more than anything in the world.

Silence.

Everything in the world didn't matter anymore. Thought did not exist, doubt was dead, and whatever pain that plagued Ciel Phantomhive's body before now amounted to nothing. As his sapphire gaze beheld a sight so beautiful, so terrible, that his entire being felt as if it had been severed from the living plane, and he had fallen into the blackness of Oblivion, the same black that the shadow was dressed in as he stared back at the bloody angel, eyes like sparkling rubies in the light of the full moon.

_Sebastian._

Ciel could feel nothing inside him. His body was empty; a rigid, hollow shell, as he stood frozen to the ground, staring into the eyes of the young man dressed in pure midnight, perched upon a wooden box, supporting the body of a scarlet violin against his shoulder, while his other pale slender fingers lay caressing the bow as it lay dormant in his grasp, warm from playing the sonata that had flooded the streets of Montmartre. The demon, changeless, everlasting, and unbearably beautiful as the morning Ciel had last seen him, sat silently, staring deep into the depths of the sapphire window, as if searching for his very soul, face stoic and eyes cruelly unreadable.

The unbreakable eye contact lasted an eternity, and Ciel's mouth made an effort to move, yet no words, no sound came tumbling from his lips. His tongue felt heavy as lead, and slowly, his limbs began to ache as if they were made of dense metal as he made every effort to back away.

"My, what a pretty young thing you are," the demon's voice, soft, deep, so familiar, yet so unearthly, so distant, chilled Ciel to the bone, unlocking the gates within him, and allowing a steady flow of dread to slowly bubble up within his empty shell. His body began to shake horribly, as he desperately searched inside himself for the will to run away, to hide, to bolt for his life, and found he had no such ability. Distressed, he felt the overwhelming fear spill over and his eyes tear up with helpless agony. The most he could do was will his head to shake back and forth.

"No..." Ciel whispered, "No."

"You do look rather disgraceful," The demon tilted his head to the side, inky black feathery hair floating over his eyes as he smiled softly, "though one would not be surprised, what with the position you have placed yourself in. Such daring attire, I wonder, how much do you charge, young _lady_?"

Deep inside Ciel's core, every painful emotion, every brutal memory, instantly came crashing down upon Ciel's soul in a single heavy torrent, crushing him beneath the immense weight. Ciel cried out, screaming as he unleashed his rage, disgust, dread, fear, shame, pain, feeling it all radiate from his soul in a loud resonance, sharp as a thousand razors as the thousand pieces of Ciel's tormented soul shattered within him and crashed against every corner of him, cutting him to the bone. As he looked into those two haunting crimson orbs, filled with the infernal fires of Hell, he could feel them judging him, stripping his soul apart piece by piece.

The memory of his lives felt like one knife after another, and those infernal crimson eyes continued to stab each and every one of them deep into Ciel's vulnerable heart, twisting the blades and reducing the organ to a pulp. The tortured Earl Ciel Phantomhive, the abused nameless servant of Bastion Phantomhive, Ciel Blanc; the shamed, brutalized crimson butler; each memory slammed against the fragile glass of Ciel's sanity and reduced it to crystalized powder, forcing him to writhe in terror and disgrace as he stared into the garnet fires of Hell embedded within Sebastian's face.

Every second in the presence of the demon felt like teeth tearing his flesh apart; the pain was so intense, Ciel could feel his heart threatening to explode from his chest. Those two crimson eyes, that had watched him in his restless dreams, his waking hours, always haunting him, now in the flesh, staring deep into the bloody abyss that had become Ciel Phantomhive. Ciel thrashed against his own frozen confines, and shook violently, desperate to free himself from that horrible stare... from the beast that had haunted him for six long years, filling every dream with nothing but judging crimson... mocking him, cursing him, plaguing him, suffocating him, killing him...

"My my," Sebastian sighed, summoning up a tortured Ciel's attention. His voice seemed almost like it was mocking his desperation, as Ciel struggled within himself to run away. The demon's demeanor was so docile, yet so dangerous; like a cat swishing it's tail before the deadly strike, "you seem troubled. Shall I play you a song to ease your soul?"

A soft, tender smile masked a sly knowing smirk, gracing the demon's tender lips, as he closed his crimson eyes, lifting his instrument to his chin and beginning to play a song so familiar to Ciel, so painful, that the final blow was dealt upon Ciel's sanity. As the violin's voice sang out, Ciel broke gravity's hold upon his feet and fled. He tore away from the shadow, running as fast as he could to escape the nightmare that now sat in the flesh, playing his song that stabbed and twisted deep inside Ciel's heart and forced tears to flow from the boy's eye.

Adrenaline fueled Ciel's dizzying flight back through the labyrinthian streets, as he cried out desperately for help, searching for anything that could save him from the shadows that seemed to chase him down every corridor. He could feel the breath of the demon against his neck, the presence of Sebastian at his heels, mocking his vain attempt to escape his fate. His body screamed from the breach of his limitations, begging for oxygen, for rest, yet Ciel offered nothing. He stumbled over boxes, barrels, throwing obstacles behind him as if they could impede the shadow's progress as it tore at his back.

The violin music seemed to intensify again, adding to the atmosphere a gripping, terrible darkness that wrapped about him like ropes and flooded his mind with terror. He could swear he felt those familiar fingers course over his scalp, as the demon caught up with him, the wind carrying it like a bird, making him faster than Ciel could ever escape. The ravens, once perched so peacefully before, now seemed to do whatever they could to disrupt his flight, swooping down and unleashing torrents of feathers and claws at the boy's arms and face, as he bolted past.

As he tore down a narrow corridor, Ciel felt a hand clamp down upon his wrist and pull backwards.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" He screamed, before he came crashing to the ground, hitting his head against a discarded box. After a blinding moment of hot white light flooding his vision, he was drowned beneath black waves of darkness.

**† † † †**

Ciel felt a blunt, forceful tapping against the side of his face, and his vision was blurry. He could barely make out the fuzzy edged form of a man standing above him, a halo of light around him from the bright full moon that rose above his head. Another _thud _against his cranium forced him to recoil, and he covered his head with his hands, wincing in the sharp pain that echoed there, before he looked up at the source of the irritating pounding against his head. Seeing the crimson mane glinting like a vein of rubies in the moonlight, Ciel finally recognized the looming Death God, and recalled instantly the events that had come to pass.

Entering a frenzy, Ciel grasped ahold of the reaper's leg, holding it like an anchor for his mind as it struggled to cling to the earth, trying to drive away the terror that gripped him. Too far drowned in his own chaos, he failed to realize that he had started shakily chanting desperately over and over, "Don't let him get me, don't let him get me."

A very confused, and somewhat amused Grell Sutcliff stood looking down at the boy beneath him, as he gripped ahold of his leg, begging sweetly and shaking like a drowned cat. Smirking, he placed both hands on his hips, "Oh ho~! Now who's the one who comes crawling back?"

Ciel ignored him, and continued to run in circles within his mind, trying to free himself from the shadows that continued to plague him, as the violin music, still playing in the darkness of the alleyways, persisted, and caused his eye to widen in fear.

"Alright," Grell looked down, smiling ear to ear from the haughty rare feeling of complete superiority over the little wretch wrapped about his ankle, "Don't let who get you?"

Ciel took a moment to choke out the name. It bore so much darkness, so much poison, that it felt like the fires of Hell were flickering in his throat, blistering his mouth as he coughed up the cursed word in a suffocated whisper, "S-Sebastian."

------------------

Hehehehehee~! Chapter 21! Sorry it took me so long. I had to write and rewrite this one to get a feel for what exactly I wanted. So, instead of molding the chapters together, I ended up restoring it to it's more broken version. It's better like this anyway~! Chapter 22 to show up soon!

Sorry about taking FOREVER. I've been really busy trying to sign up for classes and things since I got back from my convention, so I wasn't able to post this sooner!

One word: SEBAS-CHAN! ^^

Thank you all for waiting, and for reading and reviewing!


	22. Chapter 22: Ombre

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case some of you may be wondering; _Ombre _is _Shadow _in French.

--------

**-22-**

**Ombre**

Ciel's shoulders stung from the feeling of ten leather clad fingers biting into his skin as he was shook back and forth by a rather ecstatic Death God, who's smile, had Grell's skin allowed, would have stretched far enough to cut the reaper's head in half.

"SEBAS-CHAN?!!! HERE!?!" Grell screeched joyously, "SHOW ME!"

Had Ciel's mind not been lost in the trauma of his experience, and the throbbing pain of the bump lost in his hair where he had struck the box mid-fall, he probably would have fought the grip on his shoulders. However, the fresh blossom of crimson horror burned within his corneas were enough to render him speechless, and the most he could breathe was a vague, "He's here."

Frustrated, Grell surrendered Ciel's shoulders and shoved him back, "You're so useless! Wake up, moron, and tell me where my honey is lurking!"

Ciel struggled to get a grip on his tongue, his gaze lingering on the sleeping chainsaw that lay on the ground beside the reaper who impatiently tapped his foot against the street with an angry _click clack. _Taking in a deep, unsteady breath, Ciel closed his eye and concentrated, sorting through his mind to clear a path for a trickle of rational thought to seep through. Dodging the inner turmoil, Ciel was finally able to gain control of his nerves, though it was shaky, almost like gripping oil slicked reigns of a crazed horse.

"He's playing the violin," he whispered, his throat cracking as the admittance shut off his train of thought and caused him to re-enter his silent frenzy.

"The--" Grell held a hand up to his ear, taking in the sound of the violin that trickled down the alleyway from a distance, and his smile once again blossomed into a sparkling crescent, "Oooh~! I hear it! So it was him all along! Serenading me while I was working, how sweet~!"

Grell's eyes blinked in confusion, as something clamped down upon his arm and held it like a vice. Looking down, he saw a vision that he never figured he'd ever experience in his life; the blood soaked specter, embracing his arm so desperately, face pressed against his sleeve and muttering in such a pleading, doting voice, "Don't let him get me."

Reaching down, he grasped ahold of Ciel's hair, and pulled back, exposing the boy's face, which, though smeared with blood, looked so desperate, so alluring, that Grell nearly forgot what he was previously excited about.

"Awww... Come now," Grell smiled, nuzzling the frantic boy's forehead, "What's with that doting tone? I haven't seen this side of you before."

Too far lost within his desperation, Ciel tightened his grasp on his master's arm, praying that his only game piece register that he wanted it to protect him, while ignoring the stupidity that was flowing from those indecent lips. Searching inside himself for a strategy, Ciel's mind continued to be interrupted by blazes of crimson, and he couldn't drive it off.

"Well, since Sebas-chan has come all the way out here, and decided to play us such a pretty song, it would be rude to not pay him our respects, right?" Grell smiled, reaching down to pluck his weapon from the street. The boy grasping his arm, however, became horribly rigid, and he looked down at the sapphire eye that stared up at him, wide, frozen, while the face looked like it had been sculpted from wax, locked in a look of silent stunned terror.

"TeeHee~!" Grell giggled, patting the frigid boy upon the head, "So cute! Remind me to screw you when we get home."

Despite the steadfast resistance gripping his arm, Grell was successful in wrenching his arm forward, though it came with the new unyielding accessory. Ciel grasped him tightly, fingers digging into the shirt to the point where Grell had to shoo him in the face to release his hold a little, certain that bruises would be blossoming there later. As they traversed the maze of alleyways and empty streets, the music continued to escalate in volume, and Ciel began to shiver uncontrollably with fear, moving forward only to match the stride of his captive, though his legs were stiff and refused every step with an ache.

"Get your chainsaw ready," Ciel whispered, as he looked down at the ground, seeing a black feather float along the ground as a little breeze played with it.

"God, love," Grell shooed him again, rolling his shoulder, "As much as I enjoy the attention, you're cutting off my circulation."

Ciel's grasp immediately fell away from the reaper's arm, and he stood, rooted to the ground, hands over his chest and throat as he stared down the oblivion-like alleyway, knowing well what lay around the final corner where the music was loudest. Unable to take his next step, he continued to shiver with terror, breath growing heavy and unsteady as his head began to fill with a new haze.

"Hello?" Grell held out his hands again, letting them fall to his sides with impatience, "What's wrong now?"

"He's there," Ciel pointed a shaking finger towards the end of the alley, where the music flowed so heavily with the sound of a violin's beautiful voice. His crimson escort smiled broadly and, with a dramatic flip of his hair, and a quick fix of his outfit, excitedly frolicked down the alleyway, chainsaw flying behind him as he shouted, "MY DARLING, HOW I'VE WAITED FOR YOU~!"

Ciel listened in the dark, as every receding click of Grell's heels down the alleyway continued rhythmically in stride. He waited for them to enter a chaotic tap dance of battle, prayed for that mechanical roar to rise up from the dark, but nothing came. He closed his eye and tried, desperately, to listen for the moment that the demon would be chased away from haunting his gaze, but as the minutes silently ticked by, Ciel's terror, horribly slowly, trickled away to slight confusion.

The violin's voice did not cease, and any sign of the reaper could not be heard from where he stood. Opening his eye to the darkened corridor, he stood deathly still, waiting for any change in atmosphere, eye roving around in a panic for any sign from above, around, or below.

He thought he saw a shadow slip off to the side of him, and narrowed his eye in scrutiny, before he heard a shrill "CIEL!" echo down the alleyway and pierce his ears.

Timidly, Ciel willed himself to take a few small steps towards the voice, only to get another, "GET THE HELL OVER HERE, NOW!"

Grell did not sound pleased, nor did he sound out of breath, or in pain. Ciel finally threw away his intimidation and bolted down the corridor, shutting his eye in a blind flight towards whatever awaited him around the corner. He slammed, rather hard, into a cloth covered wall, and he looked up startled at what he collided with. A rather irritated looking Grell hovered above him, his smile banished and replaced with a look of disappointment and sheer annoyance. His fingers drummed against his arms, which were crossed.

"I saw Sebas-chan," Grell said flatly.

Ciel looked up at him, his eye still wide with fear, while the crimson reaper nodded, "He's back there alright, playing up a storm."

His eye narrowed in confusion and skepticism, catching on the sarcastic listlessness of his master's voice. Looking around Grell, Ciel managed to unlock his legs enough to walk slowly towards the music, still feeling the claws of dread crawl up and down his spine cruelly. His legs soon became wobbly, and he halted for a brief second, only to feel a sharp tap at his back from Grell's chainsaw, threatening him forwards. Looking back with a wide eye full of warning, he saw Grell's smile slowly crawl back onto his lips, as he flicked his wrist onwards and jabbed his dormant weapon in his direction. Breathing heavily, he made his way towards the source, ushered by the reaper towards what he feared to be his own demise, as chaos whirled about in his head like a sandstorm, ripping his mind apart with every step.

Everything shut down within Ciel's mind, as the figure perched upon the boxes finally came into view. Playing upon a scarlet violin, scratched from wear, was a man, dressed in an assortment of mismatched garments, dirty from head to toe. The man appeared over sixty, and had long brown hair that was matted with refuse. Ciel stared long and hard at the man as he played his instrument, feeling nothing but a bubbling sensation of utter confusion.

"Sebas-chan really let himself go, didn't he?" Grell jeered, poking Ciel in the back with his finger. Ciel recoiled, shaking his head.

"No," Ciel looked up frantically, "No! That's not him! I saw him! He was sitting right there! This man wasn't here when I was! It was Sebastian!"

"That's enough," Grell shook his head, as if he could shake out the headache that was creeping in through his ear canal from the boy's excessive rambling, "I know what you are trying to do, and it would have worked out well if it hadn't been for the last couple minutes or so."

"What are you talking about?!" Ciel shouted, his panic refusing to lessen as he looked around for any sign of evidence that Sebastian had indeed resided where the grimy man now sat.

"Oh please," Grell played with one of his locks of scarlet hair, twisting it about his fingers, "I know you were just lying about seeing Sebas-chan to get back into my good graces and still save face for how you just slunk off earlier. I would have forgiven you if you would have just used that doting 'take me now' servant act, minus the horrible lie. The nerve, getting my hopes up just to find some dirty ugly guy instead."

"I'm not a liar!" Ciel barked, eye wreathed in sapphire flame as all his terror and anguish focused into a single, white hot stare of anger, "I know what I saw!"

"Hmph," Grell dropped his hair and tilted his head to the side, "Prove it then."

Ciel looked around, and frustrated, ran up to the man on the box, grabbing him by the shoulders, "You! You weren't here earlier! Tell him there was someone else here!"

The man looked the boy up and down for a moment, before he smiled slightly, his lips cracking a little at the edges, "My, what a pretty young thing you are."

Ciel's eye widened and he released his grip on the man, as the man's eyes, not unlike the late Antoine Rousseau's, bore a hint of lust as they scanned the blood doused angel before him. He clicked his tongue, as he reached out and touched the tear along the ruined bodice, to which Ciel painfully recoiled with a small hiss.

"You do look rather disgraceful," the man said, sitting straight up with a rather haughty expression, "though one would not be surprised, what with the position you have placed yourself in."

His expression softened somewhat, into one that mimicked a look of seduction, yet came across as purely nauseating, "Such daring attire, I wonder, how much do you charge, young lady?"

Ciel's mind cracked once again, and he felt his consciousness enter a void within himself, "I... I'm not crazy!"

The words were exactly the same, and it sent his mind reeling with questions and doubt, searching inside for the answer and finding nothing but endless clutter. Overwhelmed, Ciel looked up at the only familiar person within his vicinity, and advanced on him.

"I am telling you! I'm not crazy! It was Sebastian! He said the same exact thing as him!" Ciel then looked, wild eyed and accusingly at the man upon the box, "Maybe that's him pretending to be someone else! Mocking me with the same damn script!"

"My my," Ciel could feel his soul crack with every word, feeling them ride his lips verbatim as the man upon the boxes spoke, "you seem troubled. Shall I play you a song to ease your soul?"

"You," Ciel's fingers grasped around a cold metal handle, whirling around and ripping it out of Grell's loose hold to advance upon the man once again for daring to repeat those infernal words, eye ablaze with a deadly azure. Feeling around frantically for the starter cord, Ciel fumbled with the deadly dormant chainsaw, wishing for nothing more than to tear the mocking man apart limb by limb.

The man, already noticing his life was in danger, fled from his perch with a loud cry, bolting off down the alleyway, leaving the bloody angel and the crimson devil behind, the latter laughing loudly as he observed the scene. Grell clapped happily, as he took a couple steps forward and yanked his toy free from his tortured doll, and put an arm around the boy's quivering shoulders, nuzzling him with prideful glee.

"Awww~!" Grell smiled blissfully, "Just when I thought tonight had turned into such a waste, then you get all adorable! You really are amazing me tonight, love!"

Ciel twisted out of his grasp, his face pained and frantic as he glared at the reaper, "Shut up! I'm not trying to impress you! I know Sebastian was here! I'm not crazy! He escaped! He knows I live here, and he's going to find me! We have to go somewhere! Anywhere! He can't get me while I look like this! He saw me looking like this! This shameful, disgusting, bloody, horrible outfit! He saw me like this! He'll forever know me in this image! Mocking me with those damn eyes, looking me up and down... seeing how far I've fallen because you keep insisting on plunging me further and further and further and further and further and---"

Ciel's mind slowly sank into darkness, feeling the overwhelming pressure of every emotion as it pressed upon his head, shoulders, and spine, forcing him into submission. He could feel the tears streaming down his face, the numbness in his limbs. His eye couldn't focus, and he could feel his heart threatening to tear free and fall into his stomach, which was bubbling with intense nausea from the stress.

Suddenly, he felt a white hot collision against his face, and everything stopped. The only thing he felt was a heavy _thud _against cool stone, and he looked around in a topsey turvey world, ringed in blurry halos. He felt firm fingers grasp ahold of his ankle, and painfully registered the burning sensation of being dragged, as Grell, angrily, towed his incapacitated toy home.

† † † †

The darkness that engulfed Ciel's mind did not let up as the night progressed. Halfway home, Grell had relinquished his hold upon his leg and forced him to march home on his own two feet, which was more trouble than it was worth, as the boy continued to stop every ten feet or so, lost in his own thought. By the time they had actually arrived home, night had progressed well past 2:00 a.m. Too tired and annoyed by the troublesome events, Grell tossed his doll into the house unceremoniously, slamming the door behind him.

"I'm seriously considering sewing your mouth shut, if you continue spouting your paranoid delusions like that," he scoffed, as Ciel stood up, still whispering to himself, "You're really anchored to your lies, aren't you?"

Ciel opened his mouth to respond in a furious rage, but Grell's chainsaw came inches from his nose, a very serious expression gracing his master's face as those emerald eyes glittered menacingly in the candlelight of the hallway, "I kid you not, get upstairs and out of my sight until you're done pissing me off."

Backing away from the machine, Ciel slowly turned to go upstairs, only to feel fingers once again along his throat. Standing still, he allowed them to lightly caress his numb skin, until they eventually unclasped the Ward about his neck, and ripped it back. Closing his eye for a minute, he breathed heavily before he continued up the stairs towards his loft.

"Oh, by the way," Grell turned the little trinket within his hand, "don't take a bath tonight. Don't change your clothes until after the RedGrave boys see your pretty outfit. I want you to change absolutely nothing, understand?"

Ciel didn't respond. The urge to clean away whatever was left of Antoine Rousseau was beyond his mind's capability to comprehend. Still wandering in the broken darkness of his own soul, even the filth on his skin could not awaken a sense of urgency. Ciel's subconscious mind willed his body to traverse the long stair, focusing on obtaining precious peace within the darkness of his own quarters. Pushing open the door to his room with his shoulder, not bothering to shut it behind him, he collapsed upon the bed, and slipped off into the depths of Death's mimic; deep sleep.

† † † †

_Tip_

_Tap_

_Tip _

_Tap_

Dahlia stirred from her sleep, listening within the dark silence of the parlor to a peculiar noise coming from beyond the doorway. At first, she figured that it had been Ciel, or her mother, returning home and restless from the night's adventures, but as she concentrated on deciphering the rhythmic tempo of the sounds, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. The sounds were footfalls, for this, she was certain, but they were too heavy to be Ciel's, and too soft to belong her mother's usual heels.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Dahlia sat up, and slowly made her way towards the sounds, pausing at the doorway to slowly turn the handle and peek through the crack. Her eyes caught sight of something orange flickering from the stairwell, and as she silently pushed open the door, she caught a glimpse of something black, wreathed in dim candlelight, slip past the corner down the corridor upstairs.

She pursued the shadow, following it up the stairwell and down the corridors, only catching slight glimpses of it as it turned the corner. Quickening her pace, yet staying quiet so that she wouldn't alarm the traveller and ruin her chances of seeing exactly who or what she was trailing, Dahlia realized that the shadow was making it's way towards Ciel's room.

As she turned the final corner to run up the stairs leading up to her butler's quarters, she just barely glimpsed the figure walk through the door, shutting it behind him silently. Fingers quivering from paranoia, as they slipped around the door knob, Dahlia gulped and turned, pushing the door open only a crack. She peered into the room, and her eye widened as she saw, in a halo of candlelight, a tall, black clad figure standing over the bed.

Dahlia could just make out his outline, as he reached down and lightly trailed his hand over the lump upon the bed. She let out a small gasp, and the shadow turned, revealing to her a brief glimpse of intense beauty; in the form of a statuesque, handsomely sculpted pale face, feathery black hair, and flickering crimson eyes. A sight that bore a horrible sense of familiarity, yet shocked her to the point of speechless awe.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Dahlia took one step back in retreat, only to see his lips curve into a small, soft smile, before he blew out the single candle, delving the butler's room into a pool of darkness. Dahlia shook and felt a sting of fear, as the thought of what the stranger was doing within Ciel's room gripped her. Feeling a sense of dread and alarm, she acted upon impulse. The urge to alarm her slumbering friend tightened around her wrist and pulled her towards the doorway.

She fell backwards with a little scream, as a pale face emerged from the crack in the doorway. Placing a hand over her small racing heart, Dahlia tried to gain her breath, as she looked up at the rather sleepy and irritated face of her butler.

"What are you doing awake at this hour?" he said, looking her up and down for a moment, "You should be in bed."

"There's a man in your room!" Dahlia shouted, pointing a finger up at him, into the dark void beyond his shoulder. She shivered with fear, though Ciel looked unfazed, and shook his head.

"There's nobody in here but me," he said flatly.

"No! I know what I saw! There was a man in there! He had black hair and pale skin, and he had these sparkling red eyes!" Dahlia gestured with her hands frantically in an attempt to communicate her alarm to her rather lackadaisical butler, though he just tilted his head in confusion.

"Sparkling eyes?" He repeated, looking over his shoulder, "I don't see anyone in here fitting that description. You're probably delusional from the lack of sleep."

"Check!" Dahlia demanded, thrusting her finger at him again, her little body quivering with fear as he shook his head and obeyed, walking over to the bedside and crouching down, searching around in the abyss.

"There's nothing there," he said, looking up, "satisfied?"

"No," Dahlia shook her head, little scarlet ringlets dancing about her face in a whirl as she felt doubt creep around in her little heart, "I know what I saw! You have to believe me!"

Ciel looked down at her silently for a moment, before he shook his head and touched her small shoulder gently, "I think it's about time you went to bed. You'll get sick if you continue to stay up late."

Defeated, Dahlia obeyed, turning away from the door as he silently shut it behind him. As they walked together down the stairwell, Dahlia continued to look up at him, feeling small prickles of guilt as she recalled the last time she had seen him; stone cold and tormented. However, the Ciel she observed, as she walked beside him, seemed somewhat different. The moonlight that flooded the hallways seemed to illuminate him in a beautiful way, to where he looked almost ethereal, calm and soft, as if the memory of that hour had never trespassed upon his mind. Still, she could not help but feel a horrible sense of guilt for what she had foolishly done, and she felt pained as she continued to watch him.

Upon entering her room, Ciel glanced over at the dead fireplace, and looked at her, "No wonder you couldn't sleep. You must have been freezing."

"You weren't home to set it," Dahlia whispered, as he walked over to the ash pit, and started piling in new wood. As he worked, she crept over to him and, very softly, rested her hand upon his shoulder, which he seemed to ignore, "I... I wanted to tell you..."

The fire roared alive, startling her for a brief moment, and Ciel stood up, looking down at her with that one azure eye, "That's enough for now."

Sighing softly, she nodded, and walked over to her bedside, holding out her arms as he undressed her for her bedclothes. Looking down at his snow white hair, soft as down, she could feel the pain well up within her as she thought of the rose that she had laced in his hair a few days prior, and how his hair had been full of briars that evening, obviously causing him discomfort. Both had been her fault, and the more she looked at him, the more her own melancholy grew.

"Ciel," she whispered, as he buttoned up her bed dress, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He glanced up at her for a brief moment, as his fingers nimbly fastened another button.

"For today," she could feel the tears well up in her eyes, as she looked down at that sapphire eye, and recalled that haunting image of stone encased pain, "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

Ciel looked down and buttoned the dress's last button, "It's in the past. Don't worry yourself with such things."

"No," Dahlia flung her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder, finding holding back her tears quite a difficult task, as she held him tight, "Stop saying that! It's not your fault! If I wouldn't have run off like that, mummy wouldn't have punished you, and you wouldn't have had to go through all that torture today. It's all my fault, and I'm sorry that I couldn't have been more sensible like you want me to be."

Ciel was silent for a moment, before she heard a small chuckle echo from within his chest. Startled by the rare feeling, she glanced up at him, to see him softly smiling down at her, eye glinting in the firelight, "You're quite a peculiar little girl. I said it was in the past, so do not worry about such things. This was my choice, and my choice alone."

"But," Dahlia opened her mouth to protest, only to see Ciel lift his finger to his lips, hushing her.

"Hush now," he whispered, "look at you, getting all worked up. You'll never get to sleep at this rate."

He stood up, walking over to the bedside and pulling back the sheets, gesturing for her to enter. She crawled up onto the soft mattress, battling within herself the turmoil of concern and confusion as she was neatly tucked in.

"Do you want some warm milk?" he asked softly, as she glanced up at him.

"Yes please," she whispered. As he left, she looked down at the fireplace, pensive. Inside, she felt as if she was failing to communicate just how upset she was. In truth, she wished that she could somehow release him from his torment, but as she watched the fires flicker and crackle in the fireplace, she replayed his words over and over again; '_This was my choice and my choice alone_.'

What's more, deep inside her heart, she reflected on one particular rarity that had, though small, subtle, and almost unnoticeable, graced her vision. Ciel had actually smiled at her. Though it had been soft, it was larger than what she had ever seen him do before. Though she could feel an overwhelming warmth from the sight blossoming within her heart like a daisy in a barren field, she couldn't help but feel a small sting of confusion.

Before she could further meditate the events of that hour, she looked up as the door opened, and Ciel returned to her bedside, grasping a small teacup and saucer that had a lingering curl of steam rising from it's surface. Gratefully accepting the treat, Dahlia raised the cup to her lips, sipping the delightful, comforting warmth.

It felt as if the liquid had been poured from heaven itself; as she drank, she could feel all her woes wash away, replaced with a deep, soft warm feeling of content. Her body felt rejuvenated, and it seemed to radiate with a halo of warmth that enveloped her from her toes to the top of her head. Glancing up at his calm, content face, she smiled softly, pausing to wipe a tear that had escaped from one of her eyes.

"This is really yummy," she whispered, "Thank you."

"It should help you get some much needed sleep, you're quite a restless child," Ciel accepted the empty cup from her hand.

As she settled back into the pillows of her bed, nestling her cheek against the soft silk, she looked up at him, "I don't deserve you."

Ciel chuckled again, sparking another little series of heart throbs, before he seemed to catch sight of an opened drawer. She watched, a little weary, as he set down the teacup upon the bed stand, and pulled it open, reaching in to draw out her small forbidden doll dressed in fine, sapphire blue garments.

As he turned the toy in his grasp, Dahlia sighed softly, before she admitted, "I bought the Faust doll... I know you didn't want me to, but he looked so lonely, and I--"

"Then why do you hide him away?" he glanced up at her.

"So you wouldn't get upset with me," she said, hiding her face inside the soft fortress of pillow.

She felt cool, smooth porcelain press against her shoulder, and she shifted her head to look up with one eye, gaze meeting a little blue crystal one inches from her face. She felt a soft touch against her hair, and looked up at her butler, grateful.

"He has quite a sad story," he said softly, tucking in both the girl and the doll, "He should have a few moments of warmth in someone else's company."

The little girl looked up at him sadly, before she finally affirmed what exactly she wanted to tell him for the past few years.

"Ciel," she reached up and lightly touched his hand, wrapping her little fingers around his, "I want you to be happy. Please, one day, please just leave here. You're not happy with us."

Ciel shook his head, "It doesn't work that way, my lady."

"What do you mean?" She said, looking up at him with confusion, before she pointed a finger at him, "Since I'm also a lady of this house, it's in my power to excuse you from our domain. So, since you're not happy here, I want you to go. Find someplace else, and don't come back here anymore where you get hurt and bothered all the time!"

Ciel was silent for a moment, before he smiled again, tilting his head to the side with subtle amusement, "Your grasp on how this works is quite amusing, but it's not that simple. As I said, this was my choice, and mine alone. There are arrangements that you would not understand."

Dahlia opened her mouth to protest, before his slender finger hushed her once more, "Now is the time for sleep, small lady. Early to bed, early to rise, makes a lady pretty, witty, and wise."

Reluctantly defeated, and struggling to hold back her tears, Dahlia nodded, and buried her face into the pillow, hugging the little Faust doll to her chest. She felt soft fingers pet her head one last time, before she heard the soft footfalls exit her room, pause at the door, and very quietly, close the door behind him, leaving the little girl alone to drift back into dreamland.

-----------

Chapter 22~! ^^

Sorry, once again late on a chapter, but this one took so long to organize, and I got really sick halfway through (horrible stomach issues). Since today I had a day off, I was able to sit down and finally finish it up.

Ciel, I think you're crraaaazzzyyy~! (sings song). Anyway, this one was rather fun to write. Hehehe... I had my friend read this over to make sure it's okay, and she said this was the original script;

Dahlia: "There's a man in your room!"

Ciel: "Man? There's no man."

Sebastian: "Just the tooth fairy."

Silliness aside, everyone's going crazy and seeing things. Sebas-chan's like a hallucinogenic drug. Anyway, next chapter will be coming out soon; hopefully I'll get over this illness of mine and I'll get it up sooner than later.

Thank you all for the wonderful reads and reviews!


	23. Chapter 23: Blessure

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case some of you may be wondering; _Blessure _means _Injury _in French.

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**-23-**

**Blessure**

Dahlia blinked awake to the sounds of thuds from above. Rising up onto her forearms lazily, she glanced over at the clock, and had to rub her eyes several times to reassure herself that it was indeed 12:34 p.m. Used to waking up much, much earlier, she felt a small tremor of dread as she heard another loud sound from above. She sprung from her bed, running over to the doorway. Yanking it open and jogging up the stairs, she approached the loft with reckless abandon, pushing the ajar door open with her palm and standing in the doorway, taking in the scene before her.

Ciel lay against he wall in his bed, his wall smudged with crimson sweeps and dots; and she could just make out several designs amongst the bloody swirls that resembled makeshift stars that had been partially drawn, yet swiped over with a slathering of red. His entire bed was stained with deep scarlet ink, as was his body, still adorned in the white dress, which was beyond recognizable from it's original condition. Around the bed lay shattered objects and rose petals, and as he lay facing the wall, curled up in a stone ball, her mother paced angrily, fuming as he drummed his fingers against his crossed arms, scarlet hair mussed from sleep, still dressed in his bed clothes.

"What good is a butler who is catatonic?!" He fumed, resting his back against the wall, "little brat refuses to respond to anything! First making me sleep in and miss my hair appointment, next being utterly useless!"

"Mummy?" Dahlia took a few steps towards them, only to recieve a deadly glare from her mother, which froze her in place, "W-what's wrong?"

"Him," Grell tossed his head dramatically towards the still body that lay on the dirty sheets, unresponsive, "little bastard won't so much as groan, let alone stand up! I tossed him on the floor, only to have him slowly get back onto the bed and ignore me. I throw things at him, not so much as a flinch. I give him a little taste of reality, and he doesn't even scream."

Dahlia's eyes glanced down as Grell continued to jabber onwards, and they widened upon seeing a small, silvery glint in his hand. Seeing a miniscule red shine as the sun hit it just right, she gasped and covered her mouth, glancing over at Ciel's still body, which began resembling a corpse more and more. Looking between her mother and her butler, she ran over to his bedside, panic tethering her throat with a heavy lump. Shaking as her small hands hovered over his bloody body, she couldn't decide where to look first; every inch of him was either stained with blood or ragged. Any pale piece of flesh looked ice cold, and if it weren't for his chest quietly, shallowly heaving with air, she would have passed out from shock that her dear caretaker had been massacred.

Grell scoffed, clicking his tongue, "I'm bored here. Ciel, get the hell up out of bed and make me some tea. Stop being so melodramatic."

Dahlia listened as she heard her mother's footsteps loudly exit the room, and slam the door behind him. Left alone, she let her horrified tears stream freely, able to only rasp, "What have you done to yourself?"

Ciel was silent, and she crawled up onto the bed, ignoring the blood, and very gently, placed her hand on his shoulder and tugged on him to get his attention. His arm gave away to her hold, and she gasped as she saw a fresh incision along his gloved hand, which was lazily dripping warm crimson tears onto the bed sheets. Shaking, she rolled him over onto his back, and gasped as she saw his face; so lovely, so delicate, smudged all over with dried clumps of crimson pigment. His sewn eye looked horribly garish amongst the gore, and his hair stuck fast to his face, glued down by it's dye. The thorns that had twisted in his hair so forcibly were once again rooted to his mop, and had left tears along his forehead, though many of the briars had come away and stuck fast to the bedding.

Her hand covered her mouth as she felt within her a horrible burning of sympathy and panic for her poor friend overflow and pour out in steady rivers from her stinging blue eyes.

"What, what happened to you?" she whispered, as he silently stared up at her with his empty azure orb, which scared her more than any other piece of him. Her small fingers gingerly touched his ruined garments, where long pieces had been torn free from the skirt and bodice, exposing a wounded chest and abdomen beneath, where little incisions from the scissors the night before still decorated fragile porcelain flesh like little garnets lost in a snowy field.

"Ciel," she grasped ahold of his hand, holding it to her chest, "How did this happen to you? We have to get you cleaned and treated."

"Go away Dahlia," Ciel finally whispered, before he turned over, returning his gaze to the wall, slipping his hand from her grasp. The small crimson maiden blinked for a moment, shocked by his dismissal of her care, before she gritted her teeth and grasped ahold of his shoulder again, pulling him over, though gently, back onto his back.

"No," Dahlia said sternly, "We're giving you a bath. I won't tolerate you looking like this! You smell like death! Why are you wearing this again, and covered in this stuff, with all those untreated wounds? You're going to get sick! Get up!"

Ciel scoffed quietly, monotone, as he looked off into nowhere, past the little girl grasping his arm, "Your mother forbade me from bathing today."

"Ha!" Dahlia shouted, tugging harder on his arm, "I won't let you be like this! Get up out of that bed and come with me. Let me worry about the consequences. I don't care if there's arrangements in place that I won't understand, I will not let you live like this."

Ciel looked up at her with slight confusion, only sitting up because of her excessive pushing and pulling on his wounded arm, "What are you talking about?"

"I told you last night, I'm a lady of this household too. You have to obey my words as well. Since you said that this is the life you've chosen for yourself, then you will have to do what is required of you, and I'm telling you to get out of bed, and let me take care of you!"

The boy's confusion did not lessen, but he complied, though soullessly, to her demands, standing up and following her lead as she pulled on his unwounded arm down towards the bathroom, abandoning the horrific scene that had become his bedroom.

Sitting her silent oversized doll in a vanity chair, Dahlia walked over to the porcelain bathtub and turned on the water from the faucet, having to stand up on her tip toes to reach the handles. She looked around the vicinity of the bathroom, occasionally turning to her beloved butler to gasp in terror as she saw the floor slowly puddle from blood.

Walking over to him timidly, she reached up to his bodice, trying to locate how exactly to remove the massacred garment from his skin. She discovered the lacing, and with quivering fingers, unlaced it, only to see that the fabric still stayed put, fused to the boy's skin by it's garish glue. Trying to hold back her own nausea, the small girl tried desperately to help her catatonic friend, looking up once or twice to see that beautiful blue window stare blankly down at her, lost in his own mind. She could feel the tears well up in her throat, as she gulped and tugged at his outfit, slowly peeling the fabric away from his skin with slight resistance.

Releasing his arms and chest from the brutal gown, Dahlia gingerly hung the horrific outfit from one of the tall mirrors, using a stepping stool to reach. Returning to his side, she helped free his legs from his bloody shorts, maneuvering with a towel to preserve his modesty, though from his stoic expression, she worried that it was the farthest thing from his mind. Grasping the bunch of fabric in her small grasp to keep the towel around his waist, and tugging him up out of his seat, she slowly guided him towards the steaming bath.

Though it took a little effort, she was successful in navigating him to lying properly in the warm water, though he had hissed a little as the clear liquid touched his skin, burning him slightly from the temperature as it wrapped around his sensitive wounds.

As he lay in the water, Dahlia rolled up her sleeves, and commenced bathing her doll-like companion, starting with his hair. Extra careful, she lathered the suds into his hair, watching as the white bubbles turned garnet as she scrubbed. Feeling the pain of sympathy well up within her, she held back her tears as she worked hard to relieve him of his scarlet badge.

"I don't see why you're trying so hard," Ciel said, after she had worked on scrubbing his shoulders with a soft towel, careful of his wounds.

"You're my butler, and what kind of mistress would I be if I let my help suffer so?" She said, scrubbing around his neck, which was speckled with little crimson dots.

"I'm surprised you know how to bathe someone else," Ciel said, monotone, as he stared off at the silver reflective surface of the tall mirror standing before him.

"I pay attention to you," she lifted his arm, scrubbing at his chest and underarm, before she spotted his old scar; a wicked line that rested inches from his heart. Her eyes widened, as she reached over and lightly touched it, looking up at his face and seeing his eye trained on her face, "... where did this come from?"

"That," Ciel touched her hand, removing it from his wound, "was a farewell gift."

Looking up at his face, seeing the pain that had suddenly flared deep within his eye, baring years of festering darkness. It chilled her down to the bone, and forced her to break eye contact, returning to her work at cleaning his wounds.

"From who?" She chanced, washing along his wounded arm. Once again caught by the sight of his fresh incision over the top of his hand, she grasped a little bowl for soap, and filled it with cold water, opting to wash the wound in it's own basin. Sitting down in the vanity chair, she gently applied pressure to the gnash, looking up at his silent, stoic face as he ignored her question.

"Why do you keep insisting on taking care of me?" he said, after a long moment of silence. Dahlia looked up at him, puzzled, as she stopped padding the wound with the cloth.

"You need taking care of, that's why," she stated, her voice stern, "you said that this life was the life you chose for yourself, and it was your choice alone. If you're going to be a butler, you have to be well and hygienic."

"I don't remember ever saying that," Ciel said, staring off once again at the mirror.

"You said it last night before you put me to sleep," Dahlia said, before she walked over to the counters and rummaged around in a drawer for a medical aide kit. Walking back over with the large compartment box in tow, she placed it upon the table she worked at and withdrew a roll of bandages and a bottle of alcohol. She took his hand into her grasp and, after counting down from four, pressed the searing liquid against his cut. The boy hissed on impulse, and nearly pulled his hand from her tiny grasp, but she quickly blew on the wound, relieving the sensation, before quickly, and rather messily, wrapping the wound up with the bandage.

The scene was not unlike something utterly familiar to him in the past, and as Ciel considered the little girl that continued to labor on his wretched, broken body, the more he turned one particular phrase over and over in his mind; '_this was the life you chose for yourself, and it was your choice alone._'

Before he could inquire what she meant, the little girl finished working on his hand, and was distracted by a scratching at the bathroom door. Trotting over to grasp the brass door handle, she pulled it open to allow a little black shadow slink in from the hallway. Bounding up onto the bath side vanity chair, Othello looked up at the pale angel that lay submerged within a pool of red.

Picking up the cat and placing it on the floor, not hesitating to gently nuzzle the little feline's neck, Dahlia resumed her post by Ciel's side, before handing him a soapy towel, "Clean your lower half yourself, since you seem to have woken up a bit since we started."

Ciel blinked silently for a few moments, staring at the towel as if it were an unfamiliar object, before he reached for it and commenced cleaning himself. Dahlia took her attentions over to the cat perched upon the windowsill, which stretched out it's spine and meowed as she itched her little fingers along his back.

"We'll come up with something to make you look nice for the men later," Dahlia said, glancing over at the dress that hung like a slaughterhouse towel from the mirror's hook, "but I couldn't bear you looking like that. It's horrible. What were you doing anyway? You looked so nice last night, you smelled so fresh and clean too, why did you change back into such horrible clothes? And why did you smell like death warmed over?"

"Do you really want to know?" Ciel's voice sounded on the verge of breaking, partially lyrical, and it made Dahlia's shoulders seize with a small tremor of fear, and Othello hissed and meowed. She chanced to glance behind her at him, seeing him looking up at her, shaking all over and sending wakes crashing against the sides of the tub as he spoke, "I was out selling my body on the street, and helping your mummy kill people."

Dahlia stared, long and hard, at the boy as an aura of darkness seemed to surround him, as he looked on the verge of laughing maniacally, quivering all over, eye wild with torment, "Last night was Antoine Rousseau; a drunken bastard who had his filthy hands all over me, groping at me and licking me, and then I got to see his eyes bulge out of his head as your mummy fed him her machine, and then I got to take a nice bath of my own in his blood. It was wonderful."

The small girl stared at him, seeing his eye staring off into nowhere, as if it was lost in a dark, dismal place, and couldn't see what was in front of it. Taking a few steps towards him, she saw as he turned his head to look up at her, "What do you think of that, Dahlia?"

After a few, long painful moments of silence, Ciel felt a small red blossom of pain blossom on the side of his face, and his eye blinked for a moment, wide, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time that morning. Glancing up, he saw Dahlia's sky blue orbs staring down at him; not accusingly, but stubbornly, her hand posed from striking his face.

"I think you're mental, that's what," Dahlia scoffed, before she reached over and grasped ahold of the metal chain that led to the plug in the tub. Draining the crimson water, she grasped ahold of his hand and tugged him up to standing, blindly wrapping the towel around his waist again and holding it so that he could step out onto the cold tile. Positioning his hand over the small bundle of fabric, she stood up on the chair, toweling off his body and his hair gently, but briskly, in an effort to dry him off, sighing with relief as she saw pure white feathery locks instead of clumpy scarlet ones.

He remained silent as she worked, though she chanced to look up at him, pained that he had once again entered his personal oblivion within his mind. She sighed heavily, and as she knelt down to dry his abdomen, she decided to speak further, "I don't care what you did, or have done. It's what you're doing now that's scaring me, Ciel. For now, I think you're just trying to scare me away because you're wounded, like a cat when they have a thorn in their paw. In a way, you're being horribly ungrateful for what I'm doing for you, and that's really sad, but I'm not going to go away just because you keep ignoring and shoving me aside."

Ciel glanced at her from the corner of his eye, as she stood up and lightly touched the side of his cheek, "You can come sleep in my room until you get treated, alright? I won't have you sleeping in that wretched room until it's cleaned up."

Without a proper response, Dahlia grasped ahold of his hand and pulled him after her, slipping down the hallway towards her room, thankfully avoiding her mother along the way. Closing the door behind her, she guided him over to her bedside, and laid out a towel upon the sheets, in an effort to save her own sheets from the blood that still persisted to trail down his body from little opened wounds along his head and shoulders.

Guiding him into the covers, and instructing him to lie on his back as she worked, she laid out the medical items necessary for proper treatment, and conducted her session, dabbing little cloths of alcohol against his wounds, both old and new, and lying little squares of cotton against the wounds to soak up any welling beads of blood. As she worked, she felt a horrible pain within her heart, as if every wound she uncovered became engraved within her own chest.

Timidly, she looked up at him as his head lay to the side, still staring off into the abyss. Finished with her treatment, she lightly touched his forehead and whispered gently, "You just rest a while, alright? I'm going to go clean up your room."

Deciding no response amounted to a confirmation, Dahlia gently covered him up with the sheets and comforter, making sure that he was neatly tucked in, before abandoning him, locking the door behind her as a precaution to protect him from any interruptions.

**† † † †**

As Dahlia piled the dirty bed sheets into a bundle downstairs within the laundry quarters, she could feel a presence behind her. She paused to look over her shoulder, and gasped as she saw her mother, hair smoothed out and wearing a simple pair of black slacks and a crimson silk robe hanging off his shoulders, standing beside the laundry room doorway, swirling a flute of red liquid in his fingers lazily.

"What are you up to, little doll?" He inquired, eyes surveying his daughter's position with scrutiny; the little girl had little splatters of red along her apron and hands, and in her possession lay a dozen crimson rags, and a large bundle of bed sheets.

"I'm cleaning Ciel's room," she said, shrugging it off as if it wasn't any big deal, though her mother's reaction was a raised eyebrow, as he took another sip of his drink.

"Hmph, planning on becoming a maid now?" Grell raised an eyebrow as he partook another sip of his wine.

"No, mummy," Dahlia shook her head, "I just think it would have been uncomfortable for Ciel to sleep on such a dirty bed, that's all."

"Awww... but why?" he tilted his head to the side, "It was such a lovely color! Why you go ruin that for?"

Dahlia couldn't find the words, nor did she figure it wise to argue with her temperamental parent. Sighing, she looked down at her work, and decided it best to abandon it for later, piling it all together within a basket and clapping her hands together as if dusting them off, though it did not relieve her of the pale pink stain.

Chancing to question, she turned and sighed, looking up at her matriarch sadly, yet hoping for answers, "Mummy, did you hurt Ciel?"

"Aww, love," Grell knelt down next to his daughter, lifting up her face a little with one of his fingers, "He deserved it. That's something you ought to learn, sweetheart. Men are only good as long as they do as they're told, and sometimes, it takes a little _swip _and a _snip _to get their attention."

"Why is he like that though?" she asked softly.

"Tch," Grell stood up, "he just ended up scaring himself silly with his own ghost story, that's all. Long night for the little bastard. He just needs to get a backbone."

"No, I meant, the blood," Dahlia looked over at the pile of stained laundry, as it lay with a dark, forbidding aura with the history soaked within it's rags.

"Oh! That!" Grell smiled happily, "Little honey, one of these days, you will have to come with me. We have so much fun, going out and having the time of our lives dancing in the streets of Paris! You'd love it!"

He spun around excitedly, nuzzling his entwined fingers joyously as he reflected on his ghastly occupation with intense bliss, before he blinked with realization and knelt down next to his daughter again, "You know, you're getting old enough, maybe you and I can have a girl's day out!"

"Really?" Dahlia asked, a little excited by the offer to go out on one of Ciel's and her mother's special outings, with the promise of such delights hanging in the air. For years, she had wondered just what exactly the pair did when they left the house in the dark hours of the night. Ciel had kept her from learning what exactly occurred during their midnight revels, and the offer delighted her.

"Of course!" Grell hugged her happily, "Oh, I bet you'll look adorable!"

A little caught off guard, Dahlia nodded happily, until her mother released her, and smiled broadly, sharp teeth glinting menacingly in the sunlight that streamed in through the window, "Since it'll be your first time, how about I give you a little present in commemoration?"

Dahlia's excitement stunted with a stunned buzz, as Grell pulled from his robe something slender and silver, which glinted wickedly in the sunlight as he held it up for his daughter to accept. Held between his index, middle, and thumb, stood a silver scalpel, which, to Dahlia's own personal horror, still glinted with a familiar red shimmer; the weapon that had drawn Ciel's blood only and hour prior. Covering her mouth to hold back a gasp of shock, Grell smiled happily.

"Awww~! I knew you'd like it!" He grasped her empty hand and wrapped her little fingers around the metal tool, patting her fist with a beaming aura of pride, "You'll make mummy proud, I know it!"

Dahlia looked down at the shining metal object, and felt an instant shudder within herself, as she nodded absently, and watched as her mother stood up and walked out of the laundry room, pausing at the doorway to glance back at her, "We'll get you an entirely brand new set after your first day, alright? It'll be like collecting coins! Let's go out tonight, alright? Go get dressed, and bring your violin along. We'll go shopping, get something to eat, and then we'll have some real fun~!"

Watching as her flamboyant parent exited the laundry room with an excited flair, Dahlia stared down silently at the little scalpel, turning it in the light to see the red glint wickedly up at her. The memory of Ciel's twisted aura and shaking declaration within his bloody bath crawled up her spine as she looked at the little blade, and she quivered with the thought that what he had said was indeed true.

Shaking her head in refusal to believe it, she focused on her task at hand, and walked out of the laundry room, wrapping the weapon up in a cloth and retuning upstairs to check upon the slumbering invalid.

**† † † †**

Dahlia pushed open the door, expecting to see Ciel slumbering peacefully. Instead, she saw him sitting up in bed, head looking down as he held something within his hand. As she approached him, she felt a small glimmer of fear, as she could taste the foreboding aura hanging in the air like a dense fog.

"Ciel?" She whispered, as she touched one small hand to the closest post of her bed, craning her head to see him better, "Are you alright?"

"You bought the doll," Ciel didn't look up, but his voice chilled the small child to the bone, as the bitterness rode it like a horse along her spine.

"Yes," She said, seeing her fragile blue doll lying helpless in the young man's pale hands, "I-I told you about him already."

"Liar," Ciel glanced up at her, "I told you to leave him."

Dahlia could feel the sapphire blue stare jab at her like a needle, but she refused to recoil, "I don't need your permission to buy something I want. I never said I didn't buy him, it's your own failing that you assumed otherwise."

Ciel chuckled darkly, as he looked back down at the doll, before he held it up so that it looked straight at her, "Does this doll look like something that wants to be with you? I don't think he's happy here. Maybe what he needs---"

Dahlia could feel a clairvoyance echo throughout her head, as if the doll itself had cried out at her in a tiny voice. Launching herself onto the bed, she barely caught the poor porcelain toy as it came crashing down from Ciel's hand. Clutching it safely to her chest, she looked up at him angrily, confronting that cold, poisonous gaze at it narrowed into a deadly razor-like edge.

"You are crazy," Dahlia said, sitting up and holding her doll defensively, "I know you're hurt, but you have no right to go hurling my belongings like that. Especially after I took care of you and let you sleep in my bed."

Ciel looked at her haughtily, sitting up straight, "You should be lucky that you get to boast you've done that much. I was born higher than you'll ever be. If you only knew just who tucked you into bed every night and dressed you every morning, you'd think you were the Queen herself!"

"Well, _your majesty_," Dahlia jabbed him in the shoulder, "What I see is my butler, who until a couple hours ago, was coated head to toe in blood, dressed in skimpy, tasteless clothing, and muttering to himself like a fool!"

As Dahlia looked at his face, she saw something crack within that sapphire window, and she felt almost panicked, as he looked down into the void again, reflecting on her words. Regardless, she continued her attack, hoping to knock some sense into him, "I offered you freedom last night, and you denied it. Since this is your choice, and your choice alone, you should take responsibility for that choice and do what is expected of you, without turning into this horrible mess!"

"You keep saying that," Ciel said angrily, "I didn't see you last night, at all."

"Don't lie, you tucked me in last night!" Dahlia countered, sitting up higher on her knees.

"When? When Dahlia? Because if I remember it properly, I was out all night, and I went to bed right after. I did not even see you!" Ciel's voice crackled with something beneath each word, as if the memory tortured him, unlocking within his mind something dark that slowly corrupted his mind as he continued to educate the small child.

Dahlia looked at him, silent for a long while, before she looked down at her little doll in her grasp.

"You were just dreaming," Ciel concluded, sitting back against the pillows and closing his eye, his breathing ragged as the inner turmoil within his slender body waged on.

"If that was a dream," Dahlia whispered, before she slid off the bed and walked over to her armoire, "then I liked the other Ciel better."

Reaching into the tall cabinet, she pulled out a small loose dress, petticoat, and apron, and changed. Though it took her a while to dress herself, she was successful, and she glanced over at her silent butler, as he lay on the pillows, fast asleep. She quietly approached him, and touched his bangs gently, feeling his forehead beneath the damp hair.

Though he didn't have a fever, his skin felt cold, and he shivered as she lightly touched him. Biting back the tears that welled up in her eyes, she pressed her own forehead against his chest, feeling the vicious sting of his words as they settled in her heart. She wondered why her precious memory from the night before had to be a dream. The unfairness of the fantasy smile, the fictional warm milk and the inexistent conversation between them, felt like little gaping holes within her heart as they were slowly removed where she had locked them away, warm and comforting during her moments of despair that day.

Feeling her tears slowly stain the bedspread, and noticing that they had no effect upon her slumbering pained companion, Dahlia relinquished her position, grasping the little porcelain doll to her chest and her precious violin case in one hand.

Looking at him one more time, she abandoned the life-sized tortured doll to rest once more, undisturbed as he wandered through the deep crimson hazes of his unconscious mind.

**† † † †**

A cinematic record is a ghostly reel that depicts the duration of a person's life; a movie composed of one's sinner and saintly moments, which could only be viewed upon one's own demise. As Ciel lay in the darkness with himself, he could swear he was watching his own cinematic record, as memory after painful, brutal memory slowly floated up his subconsciousness.

He could barely recall his glory days, the ones when his vengeance was all he could focus upon, when his dedication to his Queen was his lifeblood. He remembered the days surrounded by his own personal servants; Finnian, Bard, Maylene, Tanaka... each one always so enthusiastic to be within his presence, yet so horrible at their occupations that they proved only troublesome. He recalled, with some bitter effort, the memory of his lemony fiancee, sweet, yet feebleminded Elizabeth, who's visits were nothing short of lock downs within his mansion.

_His mansion_.

How long had it been since he had called any place his own? Ownership had become a thing of fairy tales since his servitude. Anything that belonged to him belonged to others, easily snatched away. He had learned that nothing was worth growing attached to. Everything, and everyone, were easily lost.

As he thought of loss, he couldn't help but think of his aunt; Angelina, as she shivered in his presence, grasping a long knife that she had whisked free from her sleeve. He could recall, as if it was still freshly ringing in his ears, her shattering words as she declared, "I WILL NOT LOSE AGAIN!"

How much did she lose before she lost her own mind? As he wandered within himself, he bit back his own question, how much did he have to lose before he lost his? Though the memory nipped at his heels like a ravenous dog, his abused heart had refused to glance back at the obvious loss that had plagued him for years, baring the mortifying dead faces of two of his most beloved people. However, no matter how fast he could run, he could not escape the memory as it finally clamped down upon his conciousness.

Within himself, he broke down, falling to his knees as he felt the flood of loss envelope him. He had lost everything, everyone. As he reflected, he realized he never learned the condition his servants had been in, whether they had indeed survived, or not. He had never bothered to ask once he had been 'reborn'. He had lost Elizabeth due to his own desperation, and had lost his aunt because he had interfered in her madness. Had he washed his hands of the Jack the Ripper trial after his first initial attempt, would she have still survived? Would she still be with him now, lightly petting his hair as he rested, wishing that she had been his mother? Where exactly would he have been if he would have never taken the reigns as the Queen's Watchdog? What would have happened had his family never been obliterated?

The questions continued to pile on him, painful what-ifs and strange scenarios, each trailing off into shadowy nowheres, and as he thought, though he tried to push the inevitable looming darkness away from his mind the best he could, he could feel it slowly sink it's teeth down deep into his heart, and tear away a massive chuck as he finally thought; "_What happened to Sebastian_?"

The final memory; red and black massacre upon the stone debris of his ruined home, crimson eyes burning eternally into his mind as he was carried away. How much pain had he suffered? Where had he been the last six years? Ciel could remember those horrible crimson eyes staring at him from that face, baring so many uninterpretable emotions that he could only feel a continual sense of dread every time the memory reemerged within his mind.

Then, the fresh memory, the musician upon the boxes within the moon washed alley. Could that have been a delusion, brought upon by his own tormented mind?

_Sebastian_....

He searched desperately within his memory for those days when he and the demon had once been side by side, but the more he tried to uncover those memories, the more he could feel the crimson blossom and blind him, and wretched, painful memories emerged in their place. The memories of pins, shackles, loss, shame, dominance, submittal... the day when everything was altered and his life was finally plunged so far into darkness and madness that he no longer resembled himself.

Those infernal eyes; judging him.

The eyes belonging to the one he had cherished most, had relied on most, had challenged most.

That demon; who had stolen everything away from him. His life, his appearance, his fiancee, his house, his freedom, his position... trying so hard to rip his pride asunder.

That horrible crimson, forever haunting him, tearing him apart, and laughing at him as they saw how far the proud soul had fallen into sweet blood soaked submission. Broken and shameful. Bound by a reaper's contract, and wrapped in hellish dresses and unsightly scars.

Ciel could only scream within his mind as the desperation to escape the crimson blur became overwhelming, and he woke up in a cold sweat to a darkened little girl's room, shivering uncontrollably as he hugged his chest, choking back the pain that welled up in his throat.

------------------

Chapter 23 everyone!

A really long Chapter 23, too... so, now we see that Ciel is indeed going crazy, and Dahlia too, by the looks of it (though she's got a valid excuse; dreamland).

What comes to mind for this chapter is My Immortal by Evanescence, though I use this for Ciel and Sebastian mainly, when it comes to the fonder memories, but for some reason, Ciel can't recollect those memories! Oh noes! It also works for Dahlia and Ciel, though on a much softer level.

Haunted by Evanescence also helps with Ciel and Sebastian, especially for the whole 'going crazy' scenario.

Heheheheheeheee~!! Evil things to be happening lovelies! I'm so excited~! Stay tuned for the next chapter to see why~!

Thank you all for your delightful reviews, and for reading my fanfiction!


	24. Chapter 24: CacheCache

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _Cache-Cache _is _Hide and Seek _in French.

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**-24-**

**Cache-Cache**

A black shadow prowled within the halls of the Rouge Manor, sauntering as its ebony furred head turned in scrutiny of it's silent surroundings. The cat arrived at the small lady's door, only to find it slightly ajar. It pricked it's ears at the sound from down the hall, and made it's way towards them, arriving upon the bathroom once again. As Othello padded across the tiles, he dared to gently rub up against a slender pale leg that belonged to a body that silently stared at himself in the mirror, fingers pressed against the silvery surface.

Ciel could feel the cat against him, but paid it no mind. As he stared into his own deep blue ocean, he could see that it was devoid of life; still and empty. The lump in his throat had finally subsided, and as he stared off into the parallel stare, he could feel a soft calm grace his mind.

Moments before, Ciel had been lost in the blood and torment; a crimson tornado that destroyed his mind from the inside out, wrenching his thoughts apart piece by piece with the mortal dread that _he _had witnessed his appearance; a lost soul with broken pride, submissive to the world and all it's disgusting denizens, a mockery of the prideful Earl that had once kept a collar wound about the demon's neck. A disgrace to his family name and to all he stood for... a sight he knew probably excited the demon to it's core, knowing that he had been successful by just biding his time and letting the boy destroy himself.

However, as he sat within the folds of Dahlia's bed, reflecting on the faded memories that still flooded his mind from childhood, he could feel all his woe from his nightmare shrink in comparison, and had willed himself to stand and walk to other confines to rearrange his inner turmoil. Peering into the tall mirror, Ciel could see himself, facing the person who, until moments before, had eyes wild with panic and madness... losing himself to the overwhelming pain of the world, allowing himself to be weak.

Within his mind, the chaotic war fueled by panic and paranoia came to an abrupt halt. As he stared at his own reflection, he gently swept the pain aside, and held out a blank slate before his mind's eye, writing down mentally a simple, yet horribly complex question that took him nearly an hour to answer: _What do I see_?

What he saw looking back at him was not the same face from his memories. The young man was a good replica, that was certain, but he looked incomparable to the proud child that had once sat upon the throne at the head of the Phantomhive family. The young man did not have the same hair, the same height, the same condition. Stripped down to his bare skin, one would never have mistaken him for a noble. His own slender fingers trailed against his wounds, as the memories flickered in his mind briefly, to subside in the traffic that waited in the wings, as he continued to organize his thoughts.

This young man possessed nothing. He was born into servitude, and during his six years of life, had done nothing less then serve a master and wear clothes provided for him. He had cooked, cleaned, bathed, dressed, raised, and assisted his master and mistress every single day from morning until night. The entire house was product of his sweat and blood. He alone had forged something from nothing; the room that surrounded him, and the mirror before him, were fruits of his own labor, though the credit was often snatched from him. The young butler had done in six years what many prayed could happen to themselves, and created a budding empire that would eventually blossom to be a red rose that could eclipse the competition indubitably. What's more, he did it alone.

As he looked into his own eyes, he could still see a small, faint glimmer of pride, as if hiding in the deep blue rim of his irises, slowly begin to flicker awake, coaxed from it's shell of shame and pandemonium.

That young man had begun building a legacy, and though it was not signed to his name, he controlled it with an iron fist behind the laughing crimson puppet. Although the brutish marionette came with a heavy price upon his own mentality, it served it's purpose well with sweet blissful naivety. It promised protection against losing his own game, and was easily manipulated with just the right selection of words. It had been Ciel's own humane boundaries left over from his early years of society's grooming had lead him to put restrictions upon what was appropriate and what was obscene, and as he tried to focus his corrupted thinking to take a forced logical path, he concluded that his previous behavior had been a result of such critical boundaries.

For what reason did this young man tremble from wearing such erotic clothes, drenched in such filth, when he was a nobody? An unknown person free to do whatever he pleased, not tethered by the collar of society? Why did he care what somebody thought of him? It wasn't the deaths themselves that plagued him, but rather, his deep, innermost wonder; _what would they think of me now_?

As Ciel stared at that blank, silent face, and tried to recall what he had looked like six years prior, he could only picture his current condition. The more he tried to recall his former appearance, the more the visage of the Earl of Phantomhive personified itself as some completely separate entity. In truth, he could only picture Dahlia's Faust doll; alone, stoic, yet holding within it's porcelain face a single orb forged from hellish pride. The doll within his mind's eye sat upon a velvet cushion, atop the piled bodies of it's fellows; a mountain of dolls. The legacy of his forefathers, and he added more to heighten his perch. Standing behind it, Ciel could almost picture the hands as they hovered around it, bound by a solid shadow, waiting for the moment for the doll to drop it's head to snatch it up. That doll; a tortured toy that had forged a deal with a demon, instructed it to never leave it's side, commanded it to follow his every order, and secretly feared the day those gentle, caressing fingers would finally tear him limb from limb, erasing him from the world.

His fingers slid along the surface of the mirror, and he whispered softly to the young man in the reflection, as if it was some other person, "Why do you continue to live in the shadow of your former life?"

Ciel hung his head for a moment, taking in the words as they echoed within his head, before he looked up, and responded to nobody, eye glazed over with new resolve, "That's not my life anymore."

His fingers slowly quivered as the words reverberated throughout every piece of his body, coaxing a long, deep ache that bubbled and frothed from the core to every tip of his limbs. He could feel the memory of bloody mess he had become slowly extinguish; the intensity of the shame, the feeling of dread. It was a process he had become accustomed to; faced with the brink of madness, his only salvation was to retreat within his own mind and slowly rearrange himself. The sweet embrace of denial, the kiss of the grandiose lie. Though he slowly began to drain away all that was himself, for the sake of his own preservation, he could finally breathe steadily. His body became thankful for the relief.

As he looked into the mirror, he stood back, surveying this refreshed face; cleansed of the memory of the night before as if it had never existed. His eyes, though shadowed with lack of sleep, bore nothing within; no chaos, no pain. Instead, he replaced his shame with obligation, and his fear with reconciliation.

The young man that looked back at him was not tethered to the demon. He had defeated him; toppled the black king with his own hidden piece; a daring move, but a victorious one. He had won the game of dominance and earned his own freedom and pride in return, and he should have relished his prize, despite the strings attached. Sebastian had not appeared for six years, though Ciel waited as if he was behind every pillar, lurking within every shadow. Perhaps even he had acknowledged his own defeat, and surrendered, or maybe, just lost interest in something that could never be truly his, and Ciel, too desperate to keep a grasp upon his former life, was the only one still playing the game.

As Ciel reflected, he convinced himself that it must have been his own dementia fueled by guilt and shame that had made his mind careen down such a morbid road, from a time when his pride was the end all, be all of his existence, and those crimson eyes had overlooked his every move, waiting for him to leave an opening where his pride could be injured. Those eyes had been his own warning that he was losing himself. What he had seen was an illusion. Nothing more.

As he repeated those words, the painful memories receded into the blank hazes of his mind, and left instead, a vast void; an emptiness that stretched on for miles and echoed with a dull ache. The sweeping away of the hurtful emotions, the dark, intense memories that plagued his mind, made his body shiver all over, and every limb felt heavy and cold.

Othello's meow on the floor coaxed him to open his eye and glance down at the little creature that had curled up at his heel, watching him as he meditated. Looking down at it, he whispered softly, "I'm just a butler."

The cat bobbed it's head, as if contemplating his words, before Ciel looked at the mirror and straightened his spine, standing tall as he could muster, "I am Ciel, the blank butler of Madamoiselle Rouge. Silent creator of RedGrave, puppeteer, manipulator, and ghost. I own everything and nothing at the same time."

Othello mewed in comment, and Ciel glanced down at him, as the cat stood up, and slunk away to the window sill, where it slipped out into the light beyond the opened window. Ciel watched it leave, before he looked back at the mirror, affirming his statements to the person within, though his eyes stared past it, deeper into the silver surface, as if something else lurked within that only he could quell with his words, "I'll continue to play this game of hide and seek, and I will live, taunting you with what you can not have, frustrating you. I know you're still out there, biding your time, waiting to catch me at my most desperate. I will not give you that satisfaction. When you come for me, there will be nothing for you to take. There will be nothing you can do that'll break me, ever again."

**† † † †**

Dahlia waited in an alleyway, sitting upon a box swinging her legs as she waited for the supposed signal. It had been a game, she heard, like tag or hide and seek. When she heard a roaring sound, she was to walk into the middle of the path. If she saw anyone, she was to distract him, until he was tagged by her mother.

As she waited, she stared down at the little doll that she had taken along with her in an effort to protect it from her distressed butler. Very gingerly, she stroked the feathery ash grey hair, feeling it's silky texture beneath her fingertips. She considered why he had rejected the doll so horribly, as if it was something too painful for him to look upon. She was puzzled by his words, shouting that the doll did not want to belong to her. As she considered his stoic expression, she wondered over what exactly her young caretaker had meant.

She shivered, drawing the small shawl about her shoulders. Waiting in the twilight was boring, and she sighed heavily, before she thought back on that boy that she had left behind.

Ciel had been one of such cold, calm reservation. Never before had she seen him in such a shaken state, and as she reflected, she couldn't help but shiver more. What had caused him to act in such a way? There were endless questions that she knew that she'd never comprehend, and as she turned the little doll in her hands, she sighed, choking back tears as she felt the concern for her friend deep within her heart bubble up into her throat.

It drifted in like a ribbon, winding down the alleyway like a snake. Dahlia looked up as it hit her ears, and it drew her to sit up straight, absorbing the sound as it lightly caressed her eardrums. Closing her eyes in appreciation, the small maid listened intently to the soft voice of a single violin.

The melody was lilting and mysterious, intoxicatingly beautiful and haunting, and as the girl listened intently, she found that where she sat was not anywhere close enough to satisfy her hungry ears. Standing up, she clutched her doll to her chest and took a couple steps towards the music, before quickly remembering her own instrument. Looking down at her violin case, she recalled the instructions that her mother had left her with. She was in the middle of a game, and to wander off would be, in essence, quite a rude thing to do. However, as the song drifted about her and wrapped around her obsession for the instrument's voice, she grasped ahold of her case and trotted off in pursuit of the sound, determined to uncover the source.

The path determined by sound alone was a difficult one to pursue, but Dahlia paused to listen, and followed it with dedication. As she progressed, she heard the voice of the violin grow louder, and the song it recited fluctuated between slow, smooth and sweet, to a sorrowful, lingering tone.

She eventually arrived onto a derelict boulevard, devoid of life. The stretch of road was lined with buildings, yet each seemed to be falling to pieces, and many had 'condemned' written in paint over the doorways, which looked ghostly with the way the black paint had dribbled down before drying. Timidly, she continued onwards, letting her ears be her guide, before she arrived at a decrepit, delapitated building; a large concert hall. The doors and windows had been boarded or reduced to grimy debris, and the gold marquee and elegant decorum within the structure, though promising to hold the memory of being glorious, were rusted and chipped beyond recognition.

Dahlia surveyed the building with a peculiar awe, respecting the ancient structure, though she hesitated before attempting to enter. Pausing, she looked down the boulevard, considering whether it was wise to continue onwards, but as the music intensified from beyond the boarded doors, Dahlia's caution was abandoned, and she put her small hands to work, prying and pulling at the boards in an effort to reach the music's source that lay within.

With one valiant tug, Dahlia fell back against the cobblestone street, a board falling back against her and liberating the abused door from it's confines. Free, the door swung open on it's own accord, as if beckoning the small girl within. Clutching the small Faust doll to her chest in an effort to install a new wave of bravery, the girl stood up and walked inside.

Her eyes widened with awe, seeing the glamorous lobby that lay secluded from the outside world. Though dusty and dissolved, the memory of it's glory days still demanded respect, from it's derelict crystal chandeliers to it's massive black and silver draperies that lined the walls like wallpaper. The floors were a large black and white chessboard of tiles, chipped and cracked in places, and the ticket acceptor's desk was black ebony, twisted and curved in a beautiful way. The ticket booth's window was clouded with dust, so that Dahlia could not see within, but the black and silver box had an elegant marquee that she couldn't help but slip her fingers over.

She side stepped a fallen chandelier, taking extra care to watch her footing should she accidently stumble upon a stray crystal bead, which littered the floor like a galaxy of stars. She followed the right wing, down the hallway, and walked through a broken doorway into a massive room; the concert hall.

The stage was incredibly large, and the seats were rounded about to face the curved stage, which was surrounded with multiple heavy and sheer curtains, many of which were broken and a few lay on the floor. A large black curtain shielded the contents of the stage from her view, and she had to navigate through the empty audience seats and onto the stage to get a better look, determined to uncover the musician's identity.

As she finished scaling the little stair, nearing the moment of truth, Dahlia's body began to slowly quiver as the excitement took over, though something else within her, a darkness, though miniscule, jabbed at the back of her mind, though she could not tell why. Pausing for a moment, she drew in a heavy breath, and took the final steps towards the end of the curtain.

She was breathless as her vision beheld a sight of speechless awe. Sitting in a single simple chair, eyes closed as his fingers expertly guided the bow and caressed the strings of his instrument, was a young man; the epitome of elegance and beauty composed of darkness and pale moonlight. As he wove a silken string of music from his scarlet violin, his feathery black hair drifted about his face, which, to sight alone, appeared to be softer than any earthly material. His skin was smooth and flawless, and looked as if it was carved from moonlight itself. He was clothed in a quite an elegant suit; a black swallowtail jacket and vest with silver buttons that lined the chest, simple black pants, and a white collared shirt beneath buttoned to his throat, bound by a silken black tie.

As the small girl stood in silence beside the curtain, the man continued to play, uninterrupted. She closed her own eyes in appreciation to his art; feeling tears well up within her eyes and spill freely down the side of her face from the intensity of the violin's graceful melody.

The song possessed so many emotions, so many different tones, it overwhelmed her. It was unlike any sonata she had ever crossed before, and as the concert hall echoed with the violin's beautiful voice, she felt it seep down into her soul like warm soup, and she drank up every last note.

A feeling, not unlike the deepest depression, yet vast similarity to the worlds' most satisfied sigh, settled in as the violin's song faded off into conclusion. She opened her eyes slowly as the bow slid away from the violin's strings, to rest in the young man's lap. Slowly, he opened his own eyes, and she gasped in realization, and covered her mouth, taking a step backwards as the memory flickered into view within her mind's eye.

His eyes were a sparkling crimson.

"My talents must be lacking," the young man said, his voice smooth as golden honey, "seems I earned no applause."

Dahlia had trouble discovering her tongue, before she finally was able to whisper breathlessly, "I'm sorry, I... It was unlike anything I've ever heard before. It was... incredible!"

The young man smiled softly, tilting his head to the side, "Thank you."

The little girl stared breathlessly at him, before she was able to gather enough courage to speak again, "Wherever did you learn to play like that?"

"Oh, here and there," he said, glancing down at his warm violin, "I tend to pick things up over the years."

Dahlia wanted to go closer to the ethereal being that watched her intently with his flickering crimson eyes, but something rooted her to the spot; the little hint of warning within her began to pick it's way up her spine.

Ignoring it, she looked around the grand derelict amphitheater, seats broken, dusty, torn and overturned, wall paper peeling and draperies frayed and loosely hung decorating the room, "Why are you playing in here?"

"Why not? It is a concert hall, is it not?" the young man stated simply, "it's what it's built for."

"But it's so decrepit," Dahlia looked at him again, "it can't be safe to be in such a place. It's falling apart."

"Such wise words for a foolish girl who doesn't heed her own advice," his lips curved into a soft smile in jest.

Dahlia flushed a bright crimson across her face, and averted her eyes to the floor, "Well, I really liked your music... so I..."

"Tell me," the young man tapped the side of his chin with the bow of his violin, "why is a young lady like yourself doing out at such a late hour without an escort?"

"Oh, I'm not alone," Dahlia shook her head, "my mummy's with me. Course, I ran off, but she's not very far away."

The young man's smile receded a little, before he sighed, "Ah, I see."

As she watched him, Dahlia felt the tickle of familiarity on her shoulder, pestering her. Daring a closer look, she took timid steps closer, tilting her head to the side to get a better view of his face. He looked back at her, calm as undisturbed snow, eyes like fiery garnets. As she looked into those irises, she felt the door to her certainty become unlocked, and allowed it to swing open with a whispered, "I knew it."

The young man sat back, his slender black eyebrows raised and hands folded in his lap in wait, as the young maiden stood back and said, "You're the man from my dream last night, the one who was in Ciel's room."

The man's expression softened, and his lips curved into a smile again, as she continued with a small sigh, "Mmn, but it couldn't have been real. Ciel said that it was all in my head."

"You doubt your own eyes?" he inquired.

"Well, I wouldn't, if my dream wasn't impossible," Dahlia could feel the embarrassment almost too much to bear, speaking such nonsense to the miraculous artist that sat before her and examined her with such contemplation, "I mean, unless you can do magic, there's no way---"

She watched his eyes sparkle in the light with a slight sly glimmer, and she paused, furrowing her eyebrows with confusion, "What?"

Without him saying anything, by just viewing his expression alone, she could feel the obvious answer ride her mind, and found herself slowly thinking the impossible, "You... you were there last night, weren't you? You made yourself look like Ciel and put me to bed too."

His smile grew, confirming her belief, and she found her heart beating wildly with admiration and confusion. Her childish imagination, though a little battered from years raised by a logical caretaker, easily accepted the idea, though her rationale demanded further explaination. Without thinking, she spouted, "But how?! That's impossible."

"It's just one of my many talents," he said, shrugging his shoulders simply, as it it was the norm.

"Then... how do you know Ciel? Why were you in his room last night?" Dahlia asked, concern seeped into her voice, coupled with excitement as she found that the vision from the night before, dismissed as impossible, did indeed exist.

The young man's smile fell a little, "He called out to me."

"Called you?" Dahlia repeated, confused as she saw him rise from his chair, setting his instrument down to rest upon the seat. As she saw him place the bow upon the chair, she caught sight of an intricate design etched onto his skin; a beautiful star. She gasped as she recalled the stars drawn on Ciel's wall that bore a striking resemblance to the one upon the man's hand, though they had been slathered over, an attempt at erasure.

"Yes, though, I was a little distracted," his eyes flicked over to her, and she felt an immediate wave of guilt wash over her small heart.

"Oh," she whispered, her hand against her chest, "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm sorry I interrupted you."

The young man looked at her silently for a long moment, before he smiled softly, "It's no matter. What's done is done."

"But still," Dahlia looked back down at the floor, and recalled the room and the state it had been left; a massacre of crimson, shards of objects littering the floor, and Ciel, catatonic against a blood stained wall, "poor Ciel... he must have needed someone really bad last night, and... and I... I'm such a fool."

Before she could continue to ask him questions, especially the one about the stars that continued to plague her unsettled mind, he walked up to her. Her breath caught as he came closer, a glimmer of fear and warning still gnawed on the back of her mind. She looked up into those deep scarlet orbs as he towered over her.

He knelt down, and continued to look into her eyes, his honey soaked voice smothering her aching heart, "Didn't I say it's in the past? Don't worry yourself with such things."

Dahlia gasped at the familiar verse, and he smiled softly, before he looked down and grasped ahold of one of her little hands, which cradled a small bundle of sapphire blue fabric. The girl surrendered the little porcelain treasure, as he took the doll into his hand and looked down at it, silent.

"Ciel hates him," Dahlia watched as he gently smoothed the pads of his fingertips against the small delicate forehead, sweeping aside the feathery bangs, "though I don't understand why..."

"Perhaps he shares an affinity with the toy," he said, "if not the toy's story itself."

Dahlia watched him intently, as he handled the doll as if it was the most fragile and precious object on earth. The look within his eyes was undecipherable, though his features were soft in the orange candlelight of the many candelabra that were littered around the floor, lighting the stage with a warm soft glow. To the small girl, nothing looked more majestic than the vision she beheld with her own crystal blue eyes, like a haunting dream. She bit her lip, however, when he turned the small doll over and raised the back of the jacket to see the white porcelain defiled with a black symbol drawn in ink.

"I mark them so that people know they are mine," Dahlia lied.

The man looked up at her and his gentle smile returned once more, as he held up the doll for her to accept. She grasped it as his hand slipped away, and he stood up again.

"You said that he needed consolation," the man said, walking back over to his seat and removing the instrument, "why don't you play for him?"

"Play?" Dahlia looked up, confused, as the man brought the violin up to his shoulder.

"I assume you do, unless you are in the habit of carrying violin cases about for the thrill of it," he said, as she blushed a light fuchsia, nodding before she looked down at her little violin case. Reaching down, she unlatched the case and pulled it open, revealing her own little violin resting upon crimson velvet. She sat down her little doll upon the lining, and pulled the instrument up from it's resting place, taking the bow into her other hand.

"Here, why don't you play this song for him?" He lifted the bow up, and brought it down upon the strings. The violin sang out in a bold tone, flooding the concert hall with a sinfully smooth melody.

Dahlia watched, captivated in awe, witnessing the illustrious artist as he painted a gorgeous scenery that reminded her of some grand manor. She could almost picture the darkened halls, with the violin being the only candle to light the way, up grand staircases and down elaborate halls. She could picture looking through a window and into a vast garden, as it rested peacefully beneath the moonlight. As she watched his fingers work, imprinting his method within her mind, she felt the vivid imagery carried upon the music soak into her soul, and coax small tears to escape her eyes. Upon the song's crescendo, she felt a longing within her bones to dance, and could practically see a couple whirling in the darkness, before he slid the bow away from the strings, and the violin's voice faded off into the shadows.

She applauded, "Brava!"

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head, "did you catch all that?"

Her applauds faded, and she glanced down at her own instrument, biting her lip in uncertainty, "I'm not exactly sure, but I could try my best."

Anxious from the impromptu performance, Dahlia's little fingers quivered as she held the violin up on her shoulder, setting the bow against the strings shakily as she scrambled to recall which note he had begun on. Without any sheet music, she closed her eyes and tried her hardest to imagine just what the song would look like on paper.

Suddenly, she felt soft, but firm fingers grasp ahold of hers, and position them upon the strings just so. She drew the bow over them, and beheld the first note as it rang out into the vast corners of the hall. He helped guide her, as she tried to replicate his beautiful painting. As they worked, Dahlia could feel the music flow through her veins, as if it was the natural rhythm of her soul. She could feel it engrave itself within her heart, and she could see the intricate melody weave the same beautiful setting as it had before.

As she drew the bow the final time, she felt a deep emptiness as his fingers fell away from hers, and she let the violin's voice trail off. Turning around, she smiled in gratitude, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he smiled, as he tapped the side of his face, "be sure to play that melody for him. I'm sure he will appreciate it more than any other audience."

She nodded excitedly, curls swinging about her face in a whirlwind of scarlet, "I will! I promise."

She knelt down to lay her violin back to rest before she paused, and realized that she had never asked the extraordinary musician his name. Turning around to inquire, she saw as he held up a candelabra. His face became alighted in soft flickering amber, sparking the memory of the first time she had seen him. An ethereal being, composed of darkness and pale moonlight.

"Are you an angel?"

He looked over at her, and chuckled softly, before answering with a small shake of his head, "No,"

"A ghost?"

Another small chuckle, before he said softly, "No."

"Then, what are you?" she asked.

Before he could answer, he paused, and looked off into the darkness, eyes narrowed. She looked to where he was staring off, and heard an ungodly roar that sounded like some vicious beast.

"Roar," she mouthed, before she realized what exactly it meant, "Oh! That must be my mother."

The midnight clad man turned to her, "Then you should get back to her then. I've kept you long enough."

"I really should go," she agreed, bending down to grasp her belongings. She turned to face him once more, "Thank you for the beautiful song."

He watched her back as she departed, crimson eyes following her as she navigated the fallen refuse of the stage and audience, before slipping out through the derelict doorway and out of sight. He smiled to himself as he walked over to the remaining candles and picked up the final candelabra, watching the little fires flickering mischievously upon their wicks.

"This ought to be interesting," he whispered to himself, as he blew them out, dousing the concert hall with a blanket of darkness.

-------------------------

Chapter 24~!!!!!!!

Oh my god, this chapter was both exciting and incredibly hard to write!!! .

Chapter 25 is coming up soon; hopefully tomorrow, but we'll see.

I had to listen to several types of violin music for the second part to get the general feel of it. There were SO many scenarios I made for his scene. I had difficulty choosing which one to go with!

But it seems at least one of the characters isn't going crazy!

The song that influenced the Concert Hall scene with Sebastian and Dahlia was originally Corpse Bride's piano duet. The first go was Dahlia was going to initially join Sebas-chan right away in playing, and apologize for interrupting, but I didn't like it because it seemed like something uncharacteristic for her; interrupting a master at work, though she seemed to be rude in everything else this chapter. What oh what could Sebas-chan be planning ~!?

Another song that I found REALLY works for my fanfiction for Sebastian and Ciel: Snow White Queen by Evanescence.

Thank you all for all your incredible reads and reviews!

ps: ((I'm sorry if Sebas-chan sounds kinda creepy with the 'where's your escort thing'. It's a feign concern thing over creepy stalker thing.))


	25. Chapter 25: Chanson

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you who may be wondering; _Chanson _is _Song _in French.

---------

**-25-**

**Chanson**

A loud fit of laughter echoed off the buildings that lined the way to the Rouge Manor, accompanied by hurried clicks of heels on the street, announced the arrival of two scarlet figures. Grell spun excitedly as he enthusiastically recounted his experience from the night; a romantic hot pursuit through the moonlit streets of Paris with his unfortunate, yet utterly desirable victim. The small child that followed behind him watched him intently, smiling subtly as he described the night in great detail, though she failed to understand a portion of his tale, and chose not to interrupt.

"Oh darling, you missed something wonderful~!" Grell concluded with a great satisfied sigh, netting his fingers and putting them behind his head, "You would have had tons of fun! I don't get why you ran off, but you probably would have cramped my style anyway."

"I'm envious of you mummy," Dahlia smiled, "but I had fun too. I met a young man as well.."

"Hmph," Grell pushed the black iron gate open, which he let swing behind him, nearly hitting the little girl, who quickly slipped in to avoid being struck, "I bet he couldn't compare to my little sweetie today."

Dahlia giggled, thinking to herself just how speechless she had been earlier. That elegant ethereal artist that had stolen her breath and logic away with a brief glance. Before she could reflect further on her own encounter, and the beautiful music that still flowed through her mind like a vast river, her mother interrupted with a gruff huff, rummaging through his pocket for the key.

"Speaking of 'cute', I wonder how our own little catatonic disaster is doing?" Grell muttered, finally recovering the long silver skeleton key. Before he could insert it into the tall scarlet door, the knob turned and the door swung open.

Standing by the door side, spine straight and one arm behind his back, was Ciel, calm and attentive, as he spoke sincerely, "Welcome back."

Grell blinked, a little stunned. Ciel wore the massacre dress again, though this time, it had been modified in several places; around his legs were white pants, which were corset laced with black ribbon, paired with black shoes. The tears had been given black netting beneath, which covered the bare flesh, yet still looked alluring. More white roses had been used around the waist and were allowed to cascade down the skirt in an elegant garland.

"What's this then?" Grell said, examining the boy up and down, taking in the adjustments to the gown as well as the boy's extreme alteration in behavior.

"I made some minor changes that I thought would be more beneficial. This one will have a greater chance at being sold at a higher level. It maintains the daring allure you desire, but offers enough modesty so that it can be worn more comfortably in society." Ciel recited, eyes closed with a matter-of-fact air, his business pitch flawless in confidence, before he opened one eye, "besides, wasn't it per your instruction that I wear this today?"

Grell blinked again, before he narrowed his jade eyes in scrutiny, "Okay, what are you up to?"

"Up to?" Ciel repeated, tilting his head to the side a little, "I only answered the door. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

Grell clicked his tongue, "Yes, but since when did you ever adhere to a butler's role?"

Deciding it too strenuous to analyze the boy further, the garnet mistress sauntered into the house, tossing his jacket onto a chair unceremoniously, and walked off into the parlor. He let out a loud gasp, to which the butler and small lady responded with haste. Upon arrival, the two mistresses beheld the elegantly decorated parlor. Though it was more simplistic than many galas, the garlands of crystals and roses that swooped along the ceiling, the vases of bright red roses and chrysanthemums, and the elaborate feast that adorned the tables composed of many delectable sweets, including a four tiered chocolate cake with red roses blossoming from it's surface, took the two mistresses' breaths away.

"Ciel?" Dahlia looked up at the silent butler who stood beside her, "Did you do all this?"

Ciel nodded, "I heard you say something downstairs about commemorating a special event. I figured you would want to celebrate after your return, so instead of waiting for the announcement at the moment of your arrival, I prepared."

"Very, very nice," Grell smiled, picking up a crystal wine flute and flopping down into a chair, lifting his legs so that they rested over the wide black arms, "I don't know what crawled up your ass, but I like it."

Ciel ignored the statement, and went over to cut a slice of the cake for his mistresses, dividing some rather thick pieces from one of the tiers. Dahlia looked up at him, studying his face. He was calm and collected, and his shoulders were rigid with his familiar cold demeanor. Not a trace of the maddened expression from before graced his elegant features, and it was quite a relief to the little girl.

As he turned to hand her a plate containing a slab of red and black cake, coupled with a few raspberry truffles, she chanced to whisper, "Ciel, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ciel stated flatly, as he turned away from her and grabbed a bottle of wine from the table, twisting at the cork to pull it free. The little girl was a little hesitant to believe him, as she watched him leave her side and pour the deep scarlet liquid into Grell's empty glass.

"To Dahlia Angelina~!" Grell announced lyrically, lifting his full crystal flute into the air, "May you have as much fun as I do and make mummy proud~!"

With a single long gulp, the red liquid disappeared down the reaper's throat, and was followed by an immediate demand for a refill. The little girl looked down at the cake in her hands, picking at the crumbs with the silver fork. She wondered about the butler's demeanor, and how he had suddenly changed from tortured, disturbed, and distressed, to this cool, collected, and dutiful servant. She was used to seeing him become quiet after his own episodes of distress, when he self soothed his own mind, but she had never seen him so distraught as he was that morning, and the more she beheld his new attitude, the more she wondered if it was all a facade.

Ciel stood by silently, listening as his master elaborately described his recent night revels, slowly growing more slurred, loud, and giggly as he insisted on downing the bottle of wine and it's twin to the last drop. Dahlia continued to give little worried glances as the butler remained stoic, despite the bloody retelling of Monsieur Barrette's final moments before his gruesome filet. As he described one particularly nasty event, he grasped ahold of Ciel's wrist and brought the boy down upon his lap with a hearty laugh. Though the butler twisted out of his grasp and fell onto the floor, Grell's mood failed to faulter; lost in the drink.

"Aww Ciel Honey~!" Grell said, with a small hiccup, "Lighten up, won't you?"

The butler scoffed, standing up, though the reaper shoved a full wine glass into his hand, "Drinky drinky! That'll give you a better sense of humor!"

Ciel would have refused it, but Grell brandished the knife that he had used to cut the cake, jabbing it playfully at his abdomen. Deciding not to argue with the metal, Ciel quickly gulped down the liquid, which caused a loud cheer to erupt from his master's massive smile. Ciel shuddered, the liquor burning his tongue and throat as it went down, and caused him to shiver in rejection. Grell immediately demanded more wine, and he complied, this time standing further away as to avoid being snatched again.

As the night progressed, Dahlia finally decided that then was a better time than any to reveal her special gift to her dear friend, confident that she knew enough to do the shadowy mysterious musician's masterpiece justice. Getting up from her little black chair, she trotted over to the pale butler's back, lightly tugging at one of the tails belonging to the dress to get his attention. He partially turned, giving her a small fraction of his attention with a brief glance of his sapphire blue eye over his shoulder.

"Ciel, I have a song I'd like to play for you," Dahlia smiled softly, anticipating his reaction. When he turned around completely and quietly waited, aqua blue eye trained on her with silent contemplation, she whirled around and retrieved her violin from it's case, pulling the little scarlet instrument up to her shoulder and preparing it for her performance, her fingers itching with giddy excitement as they fumbled with the bow.

"I don't know it's name, but it's beautiful. You'll appreciate it more than any audience," Dahlia smiled brightly, as she closed her eyes and pressed the bow against the strings, and drew out the first bold note.

Ciel could feel within his shell something bubbling up within his chest; a feeling that drew little cracks along his stone cold exterior and poked at his secluded heart. As he watched the little girl draw the lilting melody from the violin's body, he found his knees weak and his eyelid heavy, as he stumbled back and slowly sat down in the nearest chair. He closed his eye, appreciating the beautiful voice as it wrapped around him like a heavenly vale, and envelope him with a cool, crisp layer of sweet calm. All was sapphire blue and pale white, a beckoning mist that caressed the blistered soul with a wave of brisk relief.

As he felt the music settle into every pore of his skin, inhaled into his lungs with every breath, Ciel drifted into a sweet darkness; a blissful oblivion. He floated, feeling the tug of gravity at his back, yet defying the urge to fall. The void beyond his reach in all directions was so peaceful; his mind relaxed, devoid of thought. All that mattered was the everlasting beauty that was the refreshing rest that lay within the blackness.

_Just fall..._

Ciel could feel the words echo in his ears, and he turned a little in the dark towards the voice's origin, but found no one in the dark. Opening his eye to the darkness, he could see a soft blue light blossoming beneath him, beckoning him from his aloof perch high in the midnight sky. With a soft smile, he threw his head back, and felt his body dive from it's heavenly heights, down into the soft blue world below.

**† † † †**

Ciel Phantomhive woke in a cold sweat, feeling his body shiver from the ungodly cold that gripped his shoulders and shook him violently. Grasping his arms and rubbing them in an effort to drive away Cold's cruel fingers, he looked around in a haze, taking in his surroundings. A darkened room, with big heavy curtains puled apart to allow the silvery moonlight to waft along the floor and paint the panels of the far wall with white.

He exhaled, and saw a small puff of his own breath float visibly before his eyes. When he adjusted his focus, he gasped as he realized just who's bed he lay upon. The heavy, silken comforters and sheets of his bed, still warm from his own body heat, lay enveloping his small body. The big, fluffy down pillows piled around him, beckoning the night dressed lad back to sleep. Before long, he noticed another startling detail that stole his breath away and caused his heart to sting. He brought timid fingers up to his right eye and felt his eyelid as it lay open around his amethyst infused eyeball, which took in the familiar surroundings of Ciel Phantomhive's bedroom with a single crystal tear.

Cautiously, Ciel pulled the sheets away from him, and stepped out onto the hardwood floor, feeling the polished wood against the sole of his foot with a soft cool relief. He slowly walked over to the window, and peered out into the world beyond with breathless disbelief. The familiar manicured gardens lay under the pleasant full moon's light, it's delicate autumn kissed plants lightly dancing in the soft cold breeze, shedding darkened silhouettes of leaves tumbling along the ground in a flurried dance. Looking into the glass of the window pane itself, Ciel felt his heart become heavy as he saw the boy looking back; ash grey hair, feathered around a face that bore the flawless grooming of the young Lord Phantomhive.

Shakily, he touched his face to see if it was really there. His heart felt pangs of uncertainty, but as he felt a small prickle of pain due the pinch in his arm, he knew it wasn't a dream. Stepping back from the window, he took notice that here was a soft violin playing from beyond his doorway. He felt an overpowering need to explore the source, and walked over to the door, timidly pulling on the knob to release him to the world beyond.

He traversed the familiar halls, feeling within his chest a series of painful throbs; every detail was so perfect, unchanging since the day he left it. He allowed his fingers to trail along the panels of intricate wallpaper, feeling the friction beneath his fingertips with a soft relief of authenticity. As his bare feet absorbed the familiar feeling of the plush carpeted floor, he closed his eyes and listened to the depths of the house. His shoulders pricked in recognition, as he heard a familiar echo of a 'ho, ho, ho' from within a room up ahead.

_Tanaka?_

Running briskly down the hall and wrenching open the door to the library, Ciel looked around for his old steward. However, he found no one within the confines of the darkened room, except for one piece of crucial evidence; a single cup of tea sat upon the table, steam twisting in the air. As Ciel walked up to it, and grasped the small clay object, feeling the gentle warmth against the tips of his fingers, he heard another familiar sound; a loud lyrical giggle and the sound of soft soled boots thudding down the hallway.

_Finnian! _

Abandoning the cup, Ciel turned on his heel and headed out of the library, shouting the gardener's name in an effort to halt the elusive servant's frolicking. As he ran down the hall and turned to go down the stairs, he heard another sound; a loud crashing.

_That had to be Maylene!_

Desperate, Ciel whirled around, running for the dining room where the massive cabinets loomed. He wrenched them open, to find to his own disappointment that none of the plates had been disturbed. Frustrated, he slammed the doors closed, and decided to check the kitchen, where he knew Bard would for sure be concocting something charred beyond recognition. Before his hand touched the handle to the kitchen, his lips curved into a victorious smile as he heard the sound of the blowtorch going off beyond the doorway.

"I have you!" Ciel shouted, as he threw the door open and looked into the vacant kitchen; lifeless and completely undisturbed by Bard or any other attendant. Gritting his teeth, tired of the annoying game of Hide and Seek, Ciel finally shouted, "Where are all of you? I'm sick of this game!"

Exiting the kitchen, Ciel held his hands up to his ears, closing his eyes to listen for any abnormal noises, any sign of life within the empty halls of the mansion. Finally, he drew his attention back to the faint violin that still played within the house; it's lilting melody twisting about his wrist and drawing him towards it's source.

_Sebastian..._

Ciel bolted down the hallway, following the sound of the violin as it's voice grew louder as he drew nearer. He finally arrived at the parlor, and with all his force, he threw open the doors.

Inside was an elaborately decorated room; tables loaded with sweets and savory concoctions that mesmerized the boy as he stared at them. A towering chocolate replica of the Eiffel tower, along with a candy reconstruct of famous Parisian landmarks, spread out on one grand table, along with various cakes of every color and flavor, each delectable and carefully constructed.

"Welcome home young master!" Chorused a series of voices that dove deep into Ciel's heart and squeezed tightly to it, drawing out beads of tears to well up in the young lord's eyes. He almost didn't want to turn around, for fear that he'd be disappointed with nothing but taunting air. However, he chanced it, and turned around slowly to see a series of familiar faces looking back at him. All three ran up to him and persisted on embracing him, despite his twisting attempts to drive them off.

"How was Paris?!" inquired a very excited Finnian, smiling broadly with a blissful twinkle in his eyes.

"Did you have a good time?" Maylene asked, "I hope the young master brought back some fine souvenirs from the World Festival! May we see them!?"

"I-I..." Ciel looked at them, overwhelmed and confused, speechless as they grappled with his frail body, overjoyed that they were in his presence once again. As he looked at each happy expression, Ciel could only feel a deep sadness overflow within his heart... a feeling like he had forgotten just how much being deprived of them had affected him. Though each had been troublesome, as they smiled down at him, he could only sigh with relief that they had survived.

"You got a fever while you were there," Finnian said, concern in his still giddy voice, "but you're better now! That's great!"

"You must be starving!" Bard exclaimed, "Lucky you, now that you're awake you can try my newest masterpiece!"

"All of you," Ciel froze, as the honey soaked voice seeped into his ears and coated his heart with a sinfully sweet layer, though it prickled him with a feeling reminiscent of a thousand bee stings, "You're overcrowding the young master. Give him some room to breathe and go back to your work."

Ciel watched as the servants parted from him with loud groans, and saw before him a face that both carved him to the bone, and forced tears to well up in his eyes; the soft smile of his beautiful butler.

"Sebastian," Ciel whispered, staring at the lone figure standing in the elaborately laid room; a single shadow in a realm of light.

As the young man stared at the elegant butler, he could feel a contradiction crawl inside his heart and squeeze tightly. As he looked at that beautiful calm face wreathed in inky black feathery hair, the more his heart pounded, as if warning him not to allow the servant any closer. However, as he beheld the familiar sight, and the demon dipped his head down into a polite bow, white gloved hand covering his heart in salutation, Ciel could feel the tears bubble over like a fountain within his soul; the relief of the scene washing over his tormented mind and drowning it in a cold bath, washing away all the torturous dreams of crimson blood and roaring machinery.

"The servants wanted to celebrate your return from the World Fair," Sebastian said, standing up, back straight as an arrow and hands at his side, "I have prepared all of young master's favorites."

Ciel slowly turned around, looking at the towering chocolate masterpiece, "Y-yes, it's nice."

He reached up and broke off a piece of the Eiffel Tower, and timidly brought it to his lips, allowing the sinfully sweet morsel to enter his lips. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears drip down from his eyes freely as the delectable treat melted upon his tongue, spreading to every corner of his tortured soul and offering sweet comfort. A soft brush of a gloved hand against the side of his face caused Ciel's eyes to flutter open, and he turned a little to see Sebastian's face close to his own, examining the fallen tears of his master. Ciel stared at him, and began to shiver uncontrollably with warning and overwhelming relief.

"Is there something the matter, young master?" Sebastian inquired, "Is the food not to your liking?"

"No, it's wonderful," Ciel whispered, choking on his words as he uttered them, feeling the pain drift about his mind like a haze, "I missed this so much..."

"Missed it?" Sebastian asked, standing up and smiling softly, "I'm honored."

Ciel turned, looking up at the butler's face, studying it deeply. Not a glimmer of ill intent, not a sliver of cruelty dwelled within those sincere eyes. Even so, Ciel could feel the sting of warning still itch at the back of his neck, and the heavy haze still weighed down upon his head. He covered his eyes and shook his head, "My head is pounding. I can't think straight. Sebastian, put my mind at ease."

"Perhaps some music will soothe your soul," the butler responded, which caused a sudden sting within Ciel's mind.

The boy shook his head and looked at him sideways, "Don't use that phrase ever again."

"As you wish, young master," the butler nodded, as a beautiful melody began and washed over the room, calm and soothing to Ciel's ears. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sweet music, allowing it to soak into his bones. He felt a soft touch upon his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to two crimson ones, as Sebastian knelt before him.

"Perhaps the young master would like to dance?" he asked, a subtle smile upon those graceful pale lips, holding out his hand to the boy.

Ciel looked down at it, before he whispered, "You know I can't dance."

"Ah, but practice makes perfect," Sebastian took the boy's hand into his own, "besides, the motion might help clear your head."

More wanting something stable to hold onto rather than to dance, the boy accepted the man's hand and walked out a couple feet, before assuming the waltz beginning stance. As the music wrapped about the pair, Ciel found himself lost deep in his own mind, trying desperately to focus. Though the hand that clasped his own and rested against his shoulder were firm and warm, Ciel couldn't help but feel a tremor of uncertainty. He wandered through the haze, and found the more he tried to think of the dream that he had lived in for so long, the more his head pounded. Before long, the wieght grew too heavy, and he pressed his forehead against the butler's chest, sighing heavily. He felt a small chuckle rumble from within that hollow trunk, and he looked up at that playful face. The boy looked away with a faint flush.

"Does young master have something to say?" The butler inquired, his smile subtle as the boy looked back down at the floor.

"Sebastian," Ciel said, not bothering to look up, "Don't make fun of me. I had such a bizarre dream, but it felt so real. I'm still shaken from it."

"May I ask what happened within my lord's dream?" Sebastian asked, as the boy sighed heavily.

"Sebastian, is the queen alive?" Ciel asked.

"I assume so, if age hasn't claimed her yet," Sebastian said. Ciel felt the urge to slap him, though he ignored it and concentrated on his current inquisition.

"And Ash?" Ciel looked up this time to watch as his servant replied. "Is he alive as well?"

"I would believe so," Sebastian responded, crimson eyes looking down at the young boy with a soft calmness, yielding no hidden secrets, no barricade that Ciel needed to demolish, "Pardon me asking, but why the concern for their well being, young master?"

Ciel looked down again at the wall of black, "In my dream, they were my enemies."

"Her majesty, your enemy?" Sebastian repeated, to which Ciel sighed heavily.

"Ash was actually Angela, and was mad with the want to purify the world," Ciel shook his head, "The Queen wanted to start a war, so they set all of London on fire using Pluto."

Ciel realized that he had not seen the animal since he awakened, and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, pausing to look up at Sebastian's calm face, "As a matter of fact, where is Pluto?"

Sebastian looked unfazed, "He's probably out in the gardens. Would you like me to fetch him?"

The boy stared up into his honest eyes, contemplating the vision within his dream; Pluto lying upon the ground, motionless, and surrounded by his servants, bathed in the flickering orange glow of the London Fire. Each one had been barely alive when he was sitting within the boat down the haunting river, and as he remembered feeling their warm giddy embraces upon his arrival, he couldn't help but wonder how could all that possibly have been a dream. Biting his lip in confusion, he felt his temples pound feverishly. He gasped and pressed his head against the black wall before him, feeling the subtle warmth of the man's chest through the sturdy fabric.

"Young master, are you sure you're alright?" The butler's fingers lightly skimmed the boy's chin, lifting it up so that he looked into those crimson eyes, "Do you need me to do anything for you?"

"Just stay here with me," Ciel said, pressing his forehead once again to the man's chest, listening to the heart within pound in a gentle rhythm, "I feel heady. I can't shake this feeling that keeps weighing down on me. I can't make it go away... I keep thinking there's something missing. Like there's something I'm trying so desperately to forget, but it just keeps knocking at the inside of my mind, refusing to be forgotten."

The butler was silent, and Ciel closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of the solid torso, inhaled the subtle scent of black tea and white roses still on his jacket. A tear slid free from his eye as he felt the feeling that he was home grasp his hand and his shoulder and pull him into a partial embrace. For a brief moment, he let his defensive wall crumble, feeling nothing but the warmth of the taller body that held him close, and for a minute, he truly believed that it all had been a horrible dream.

All of it had been a delusion...

His servitude had all been a feverish dream. He had contracted an illness while at the World Fair, and from there had wandered in a dream that felt like it spanned years. The London Fire, the falling from London Bridge, the Plutonian Shores, the enslavement to the demon that held him, the contract with the scarlet Death God, the desperate flight from the mansion, the voyage to Paris, the years working under Madamoiselle Rouge, the founding of the RedGrave empire, the raising of the small lady, the bloody Dying Days, the years living in fear and paranoia... all of it had been a delusion. As he beheld the room around him and the black clad body before him, he felt a calmness within his bones that he had not felt in years; an opalescent ethereal world that was a delicate white and soft blue. However, try as he might, he could not drive the memory of the dream away from his mind, and the more he wanted it to drift off into nothingness where it belonged, the more he felt the horrible pounding within his temples.

"I was locked in a nightmare of crimson," Ciel murmured, "Crimson eyes, crimson blood, crimson master..."

"Crimson master?" Sebastian repeated again, and Ciel nodded solemnly, before he chuckled painfully.

"I had to become a butler for that awful Grell Sutcliff," the young lord felt his head pound heavily, and he winced, "I made a deal with him in order to escape."

"Escape?" Sebastian mimicked him again, which was starting to slightly irk the young boy.

"Yes," Ciel looked up at him, " I had to escape you."

"Mmn," The butler smiled softly, "but as you can see, you have no reason to run from me."

"Hmph," Ciel narrowed his eyes, "I have every reason to loathe you. Soon enough, you'll devour my soul, and I will disappear from this world as if I never existed."

The demon looked down at him, and Ciel felt his spine shiver with a sense of dread as he felt that crimson stare bear down against his neck, but he continued, "... I brought that upon myself, right?"

The pair was silent for a long moment, before the young Earl finally sighed heavily with a soft feeling of relief, "I don't regret my choice now that I know that was all a dream. Knowing that you've never betrayed me, Sebastian. I wanted it all to be a horrible nightmare, I wanted to go back to this again, where I could stand inside my own home and be where I belong. Where I was who I was... not something so low and vile as what that devil made me become."

"So a piece of you still exists," Ciel blinked and looked up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as those sly lips curved into a subtle smile.

"What did you just say?" Ciel asked, feeling his head pound like a kettle drum, driving the haze about him around like a hurricane, "What do you mean by that?"

As he looked up at him, he felt the music that had flooded the room enter into a very high pitched screech that caused his ears to ache. He clamped his hands over his ears, and shouted, "Make that music stop!"

Sebastian leaned down, until his mouth was inches from Ciel's ear. Gently, he whispered in a soft lyrical tone; "_The music's beautiful underground_."

As he looked up at that butler, so calm, so content, he felt the creeping dread crawl up his spine and latch down upon his throat, drawing forth a gasp. As his eyes looked up into that garnet gaze, hearing those words float around in his mind, Ciel felt the dire need to wrench his hands free of the demon's grasp. However, those white gloved fingers held tight, and pulled him into a close embrace; refusing to release him.

"_Up and down, it leads them down_," Sebastian sang, his voice bearing a sly tone that caused Ciel's blood to freeze.

"Let go of me!" Ciel twisted, "Sebastian, release my arm this instant!"

The demon smiled further, fingers painfully gripping the boy's wrist, "_When young master hears the music underground, will he follow it down?"_

"What nonsense are you spouting?!" Ciel finally wrenched himself free from the demon and backed away, feeling the sting on his arm and shoulder.

As he stared at that face, Ciel felt the horror of reality wash over him in a single, terrible torrent. As he heard the violin's shrill voice in the background, he immediately recalled what exactly the origin of the song had been; that small crimson maiden who had played for him many times over the years was playing her violin beyond his reach, as he stood within the confines of his own mansion. A house embedded deep within the recesses of his own subconcious mind; a painful memory that had haunted him for six long years, built upon the shaking foundation of two painful words: what if?

"You... you... all of this..." Ciel looked around and saw the room slowly crumble into disarray, "All of this was an illusion, wasn't it?!"

Wave after wave of calamity broke against Ciel's mind, tearing him apart. Staring up at that face, he backed away, recoiling into himself, quickly erecting the broken walls of his own psyche and building them up to towering heights and massive girth, fortifying him from the demon's accusing eyes as they stared into his own.

"Leave me be, you beast!" Ciel barked, eyes stinging with painful tears, as he felt reality bite and rip at his heart, eliminating that feeling of relief and replacing it with despair.

Sebastian looked onwards, as the boy slowly transformed back into the lowly wretch; his ash grey hair faded into a snowy white, and remained mussed and various lengths. The boy cried out as the stitches returned to his eye, shutting it from the world once again. He shook violently, before he looked up, eye blazing with an unholy rage, and he ran up to that shadowy denizen, throwing all his force into his shoulder to send the demon falling backwards onto the floor. Easily, the obelisk was toppled, and Ciel sat upon his torso, grabbing his shirt in his hands and gritting his teeth in pain, staring down into those two unfazed crimson eyes and feeling nothing but a mixture of agony and anger.

"Why?!" Ciel demanded, "Why are you playing these games with me?! Why don't you just take me!?"

The demon remained silent, as the boy became more deranged, "You leave me here to rot, and then you play these stupid mind games! Are you trying to break me from the inside out?! What are you waiting for?! Destroy me already! Tear me limb from limb! Suck out my soul or filet me upon the street, I don't care! Just stop forcing me through this Hellish maze and make up your mind! I'm begging you, take me and end this horrible Hell!"

Sebastian remained stoic, and Ciel bent over in pain, pressing his forehead against the demon's chest, filling his vision with the wall of welcoming black, his shoulders shaking as he felt the pain ebb and flow throughout his body.

"Why are you watching me destroy myself?" Ciel whispered softly.

As his ragged breathing continued, it became the only sound in his ears, as the violin's voice faded away.

---------

Chapter 25.

I'M SO SO SORRY THIS ONE TOOK FOREVER! Classes finally started up for me, and I was really distracted, it being my first week and all. Trying to juggle work and classes (when half of them I was wait listed for, go figure) was a pain... and sadly this chapter took a lot of focus for me to produce (confession: I actually cried! ).

So, this chapter, I was a little cruel, and I'm sorry... but writing that little bit of fluff there was actually a nice change... since a lot of my story lately has been bad to worse... though it turned out it (the cake) was a lie. Ciel's resolve keeps getting challenged... and I actually had him drop his guard for a moment... only to have him immediately put it back up again. The next chapter's gonna be really dark and scary... so I'm gonna have to write it during the day, I think... *gulp*

In another note; I have begun posting pictures inspired by His Butler; My Master on my DeviantART account. It's Sachelarot, like my pen name here, so it'll be easy to look up. For those of you wanting to get a rough idea what Dahlia originally looked like, Ciel's Massacre dress, ect., you can go visit DeviantART and see them. I'll be posting more (I have a lot of sketches... a good amount of Sebas-chan and Grell too~! ^^) when I get enough time to color them properly. So go to Sachelarot[dot]Deviantart[dot]com to see my gallery.

The song "Missing" by Evanescence and "Room of Angel" from Silent Hill 4 soundtrack helped me write this chapter (and "21 Guns" by Green Day. YAY~!).

Chapter 26 will be out sooner than this one, I promise! Stay tuned for the next update. I have four days off starting Sunday, so I'll have PLENTY of time to get some work done!

Thank you all for reading and sticking with me through this long story, and for the wonderful reviews!


	26. Chapter 26: Poupée

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering; _Poupée_ means_ Doll_ in French.

------------

**-26-**

**Poupée**

As the music slowly faded away, Ciel could only hear the sound of his own heavy breathing, and the steady _thump _of the heart held deep within the black clad torso that he pressed his forehead against. He searched inside himself; all the thousands of questions he wanted to scream at the demon held captive beneath him floated up to the surface, but he could not settle for a single one. Overwhelmed by the pain that gripped his body like a vice and shook him senseless, he finally managed to whisper forcibly, "Say something."

"I didn't know you felt _that_ _way_," Ciel felt his body suddenly plunge into subzero, his breath catching in his throat like a stone and nearly choking him, as the flirtatious purr caused Ciel's head to shoot up, as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his head. The face did not belong to the that did not belong to Sebastian, but to a very intoxicated and enamored Grell. Ciel's eyes widened in shock, as he slowly looked around him, seeing that the ornately adorned Phantomhive parlor had translated itself into the brooding scarlet and black bed chambers of the Rouge Manor. A little frantic with confusion, Ciel blinked, unable to comprehend the change, before he looked down and noticed that his current position was straddling the rather puzzled Death God's chest, fistfuls of his master's shirt and vest balled up in his fists.

"I-I--" Ciel stammered, as he watched the crimson reaper's lips curve into a wicked smile, "What... I--"

Slowly, he released his hold on his master's clothes, and rose slowly on his forearms, timidly as if he was straddling some sort of dangerous animal that could tear him apart. Despite his current situation, his head pounded with a feverish pulse, and his heart cried with a sharp pain from the cruel searing hot knife that Sebastian had plunged so far into him by trapping him in his own painful memories. The feeling of betrayal and ultimate disappointment festered in the pit of Ciel's stomach. The knife twisted further, as through his matted bangs, the startled boy blinked down at the person beneath his legs, feeling immediately the sense of urgency rise up along in his spine and scream at his mind to move. Unfortunately, as the boy subtly shifted one leg, the Death God snatched ahold of his wrist and pulled him down, netting his fingers around the back of the boy's head and pulling that delicate face close. Despite the obvious reluctance from his little victim, Grell attempted to plant a kiss upon those soft pursed lips, though Ciel wriggled too much to allow the reaper such satisfaction.

"If you would have told me that sooner, I would have easily helped you," Grell crooned, though Ciel thrashed a little, trying to keep his distance as best he could, "You kept saying all those romantic things, confessing how you truly feel~!"

The enamored reaper twisted his long fingers in the snow white hair, his voice lilting as he quoted the boy's declarations verbatum, "'You leave me here to rot, and you play these stupid mind games', and 'destroy me, already!', and 'make up your mind!' So you actually wanted it all this time! I should have known you were just playing hard to get~!"

"THAT WAS NOT MEANT FOR YOU!" Ciel shouted, wriggling desperately, teeth gritted. The knife buried in his heart twisted further.

"Oh really?" Grell looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked in scrutiny, "Then who was it for?"

Ciel would have said exactly who it was for, but as he thought back to the moments before he came to, and the desperate situation he had woken up in, the more he just wanted to tear out of the reaper's grasp as fast as he could, run outside, and scream his heart out into the night sky. No wound in the world could amount to the pain born once again to Ciel's tortured mind and soul, and slowly, he could feel his own resolve crumble into the churning sea of chaos raging within himself. The frustration of the illusion taunted and tore at his mind, and the rude awakening was the beyond the breaking point. He twisted a little in the reaper's grasp, his effort to escape dwindling as he was overcome by the torment of the beautiful, cruel lie. His wounded psyche grasped at straws, trying to find a reason behind the mirage; a denial that could save his sanity.

"I-it must have been the alcohol," Ciel said, thinking back to the party that had occurred earlier that night, and how his insistant drunken mistress had forced him to partake in some wine, "It made me delusional."

"Oh please!" Grell scoffed, "That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard! Who's ever heard of getting drunk off one glass of wine?!"

Ciel looked down, cursing that his own self soothing lie had fallen through so easily. He paused, thinking deeply in a chaotic frenzy; _had he actually seen Sebastian, or was it just a dream? What sort of thing could have brought upon such a horrendous hallucination?_

Overwhelmed by despair, Ciel finally shook his head and twisted suddenly, breaking the reaper's hold upon his body and tearing free of those wretched fingers. Tumbling to the floor like a doll, he bolted up to his feet and towards the door, only to have a hand firmly clamp down upon his wrist and jerk him backwards against a cloth covered wall. A forearm encircled his shoulders and chest, pinning him against his captor, while those fingers kept an iron grip upon his own arm, biting into the fragile flesh.

"Ha~!" Grell cheered victoriously with a little giggle, "I've got you now!"

Ciel twisted in vain, a game he had played so many times before with the reaper, though this time, he had no assistance available to free him. He felt the accursed reaper nuzzle the side of his face, drawing his tongue along his jawbone and coaxing a sickening shudder to crawl up the boy's spine. Ciel thrashed a little, and Grell giggled sinisterly, turning his captive around to look him in the eye.

The boy stared up at him, past him into the darkness of the wall beyond the scarlet hair. He stood defeated, as he felt his head blare with unfathomable pain, temples throbbing from the endless run through the mental maze. What he had seen. The touch of those white gloved hands, the soft soothing scent of black tea and white roses, the remarkable taste of the chocolate on his tongue, and the sound of that heart that pounded with it's bold devotion. That dream had been so beautiful... the cruelty of it all was that none of it had been real. What's more, he had ended up in this dire situation, conned into a sickening and dire situation of which there was no escape. His forehead was still warm from pressing it against Sebastian's chest. How that brief moment had been the most comforting he had ever experienced within those hectic disturbing years. That one fleeting moment within the partial embrace of the one he feared the most. Within those arms, believing that he had never been betrayed, that his servants still survived, that his world had not been disturbed. How his heart shattered, knowing that the heart that he had listened to had not been the demon's at all, but the enamored scarlet devil's that now hovered above him, face smirking with twisted irony. Sebastian had tricked him a final time; had thrown everything he had held dear into his face and rubbed it like gravel against his eyes, leaving him in the clutches of a villian to face one more humiliation.

Ciel couldn't take it anymore.

It had been so cruel, so horrible, so mortifying...

It had been the final blow.

There was nothing for it.

Ciel allowed it all to take over him. He felt the darkness bite down onto his heart and rip it asunder. Tears flowed easily from his eyes, and he cried out in agony, his trapped hand flexing painfully while his free one grasped his forehead and cradled it.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" Ciel shouted at the floor, "I WANT HIM OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Grell blinked at the deranged young man standing before him, and he raised an eyebrow cynically, "Who?"

"Don't play stupid, Grell! You know who I mean!" Ciel shouted, eye wild with torment, "Sebastian!"

He shook his head violently, "I'm seeing him in the dark. He's haunting me in my dreams, torturing me with these painful memories and things that could be and should have been. Mocking me with these delusions. Trying to break my soul with his endless parade of painful illusions that keep flashing in my head. He's tearing me apart from the inside out!"

"Oh really?" Grell said, releasing the boy's hand with an air of annoyance, "And how do you suppose he's doing that?"

"I don't know!" Ciel barked viciously, "I just know he's haunting me and I want him gone!"

Ciel stared at the ground, and saw swing into view a little glass talisman. Taking it into his hand, he stared into the transparent trinket, an idea floating to the surface of his chaotic sea. His idea in full bloom, he looked up at those jade green orbs with frenzied enlightenment, "I need you to improve the Ward! Make it stop him from entering my head!"

Grell put his hands up, "Sorry, honey. That's not my department."

Ciel grasped ahold of the older man's torso, balling the fabric into his fists with desperation, "Then call William! Get him to find someone to put something into it that'll keep Sebastian from tearing my head apart!"

"And why would I want to do that?" Grell smiled, tilting his head to the side and flipping his hair playfully, "I love Sebas-chan~! I'm jealous that you get to be mind-fucked by him every day, to tell you the truth. You don't know how lucky you really are."

"FINE! You can have him!" Ciel cried, "I'm sick of his games! I want him out of my head! I've worked for you for six years! That's triple what Sebastian worked for me! You can at least do this for me!"

"Psh!" Grell scoffed, laughing a little at the thought, "I don't owe you anything! You're my little slave, remember? You sold yourself to me to get away from Sebas-chan. You're just lucky you have the immunity card right now."

Ciel felt the darkness suffocating him as it pressed down on his shoulders. He grasped frantically at solutions, frustrated to the point of wanting to grasp the Death God's throat and throttling him. His tears flowed freely, stinging his face with the salty liquid, making his eye see red. The stress and the hopelessness overwhelmed him, and he finally succumbed to the pressure, falling to his knees, and allowing his head to hang with his hands in his lap.

The Death God eyed the boy with a mixture of slight annoyance and intrigue. Tapping his chin lightly, he considered the wretched mess that lay silent on the floor, cradling his snowy mop as if it weighed a ton. Giggling to himself with wicked delight at the little plan forming within his head, he knelt down and took the boy's chin by his fingertips, guiding it up to look at him.

"Alright," Grell smiled, "I'll take your precious little trinket to get it fixed up."

Ciel looked at him with a look that dwelled between disbelief and suspicion. The crimson mistress's head tilted to the side as he continued, "Let mama take care of everything, sweetie~!"

The boy considered the reaper's words carefully, though he felt a small puddle of relief gently lap against the cinders of his heart, cooling them, though it was too late to reduce the damage already inflicted. He managed to whisper softly, "Thank you."

"Of course," Grell smiled widely, his teeth shining in the candlelight menacingly, "I'm sure you're familiar with the term: you don't get something for nothing?"

The Death God lightly stroked the side of the young boy's cheek, "Once I do this for you, we're going to have fun. A LOT of fun. No more of this 'pain threshold' business, you got me?"

Ciel could feel the nausea bubble up again, the acid lapping against his uvula in prayer, as he felt the burn of those fingertips as they slid against his flesh. His brutalized mind, however, begged him for relief. It cried out in misery as the memory of the black tea and white roses still lingered about his senses.

Though he was reluctant to do so, Ciel swallowed the acid down, and with his head still pounding from grief, he managed to lift and drop it in agreement.

"Do whatever you want. Just find out how to banish him from tormenting me again," Ciel whispered painfully.

Grell gave a victorious cheer, jumping up excitedly.

"Oh!" Grell paused and looked down at him, "By the way, I forgot to tell you something."

Ciel didn't look up, but the reaper continued nonetheless, "We altered the Ward years ago, though we didn't know what the after affects would be like. Gave it an extra little something-something."

The little butler looked up this time, though a bit slowly, and his sapphire eye was trained upon the reaper, awaiting what this unknown altercation could possibly have been.

"It was a barrier that the developers came up with. It makes it so that Sebas-chan couldn't actually touch you," Grell smirked, "See, Will thought that you'd be too easily reacquired if he could still lay his hands on you. You're a hostage, remember? So, the new little barrier makes it so that Sebas-chan would feel incredible pain if he even grazed your skin."

Ciel looked at Grell for a long moment, considering this new fact with great thought. If that was indeed the truth, then had he been worrying over nothing all those years? Also, though it was miniscule, Ciel could feel a glimmer of sadness. _A spiritual bond, and now a physical bond... both severed completely_. However, as he recalled the way Sebastian had been tearing his mind apart piece by piece, he felt the overwhelming need to obliterate that mental bond completely. That gentle clasp of his hand upon his own had been a trick, an illusion created from sheer maliciousness, and the more he reflected on the ugly truth behind the beautiful lie, the more the boy took joy in the fact that the demon would suffer if he ever lay a finger upon him. Despite that victorious emotion, Ciel could feel a lump form in his throat; a ball composed of sadness and disappointment.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Ciel choked.

"Well, I forgot," Grell shrugged simply, "Besides, Will thought it be best you remain vigilant. If you knew you couldn't be touched, you wouldn't have stayed aware of his presence. Just because he can't touch you, doesn't mean he can't still manipulate other things to capture you, right?"

Ciel stood up from the floor, and straightened his back, "I'm... grateful."

"You should be," Grell turned flipped his long crimson locks dramatically with a little toss of his head, "The things I do for love! One should canonize me for my generosity."

The boy couldn't decide what exactly he felt within him. The intensity of his own despair felt like a long heavy black cloak hanging from his shoulders, and there was a puddle of sadness that welled up within his depths as he looked down at his own hands, knowing that his own skin was a untouchable barrier. The knowledge confirmed one solid truth: the beautiful, terrible memory of Sebastian's hand upon his shoulder and wrapped over his hand, was truly a fantasy. However, a glimmer of relief, coupled with a smirk of victory, claimed Ciel's face, as he clenched his fists. He was invulnerable to Sebastian's tries. He was frustrated, and destroying him from the inside out, but he was powerless to tear him limb from limb. He enjoyed this knowledge, and he looked up at the crimson devil standing before him with a dark gratitude that his game piece had supplied him with the ultimate defense, and soon, he would be completely rid of any of Sebastian's attacks.

"It's late, so I will leave you to your beauty sleep," Ciel said, partially bowing.

Grell, a little flattered by the phrase, blushed softly, but as he whirled around to continue the romantic tirade, he saw to his own disappointment that the bedroom door swung ajar, and the space where the boy once stood was vacant. Crossing his arms in a huff, Grell scoffed, "Somehow, I feel like I'm being used..."

**† † † †**

It had been two days since that night, and as Dahlia Angelina sat alone within her darkened bedroom, she stared down at the delicate porcelain features of her beloved Faust doll. She softly brushed his hair with her fingertips, reminiscing about that concert within the parlor, and wondering about that puzzling reaction that her dear friend had to the enchanting music of that amazing artist. She thought back to the moment she had touched the bow to the strings, and looking at Ciel's eyes as they closed and he sat back in a chair. She could remember feeling her little heart flutter at this rare sight, and hoped that he was indeed truly appreciating her play, and sharing in her love for the ethereal musician's masterpiece. It was after a few moments, that his behavior became quite peculiar.

The butler started acting rather strangely, touching his face slightly, before he got up out of the chair, crossed the room to the windows, and just stared out them for a moment. Afterwards, the boy had traveled out of the parlor and began wandering the hallways, murmuring to thimself inaudible things, before he returned to the parlor and stood in place for a moment. Though it disturbed the child to see him react as such, she did not falter in her performance, playing the melody with all her heart, determined to complete it.

It was during this, that his most bizarre behavior emerged. Still within a trance, the boy had crossed the room and lingered by the dessert table, still murmuring to himself. He even sampled the cake, breaking off a piece and devouring it slowly, savoring it with a silent bliss. He also began touching his temples, acting as if he was possessed by a bitter headache. It was during this time that he turned and walked up to her mother, who was standing and observing his behavior with a confused furrowed brow. Dahlia then watched as the butler grasped ahold of her mother's hand and waist, and began dancing with him. Taking this rare behavior with delight, the small lady played happily, watching as the couple danced, though Ciel still continued to whisper to himself, and her mother was so intoxicated that he continued to giggle constantly. Closing her eyes for a moment and allowing the music to envelop her mind too, Dahlia's song entered its beautiful crescendo.

When she opened her eyes and drew the bow away from the violin, she discovered that she had been abandoned within the desolate parlor. Saddened that she had been left alone, but more than satisfied that she had truly entertained Ciel to the point of dancing, the girl walked over to the candles and blew them out one by one It was the next morning, when she had spent a good portion of it within the butler's company, that she felt a slight depression.

He refused to speak about the concert from the night before. Any mention that she made of it was immediately hushed, and whenever she reached for her violin, he would depart from the room altogether. Though he never did inquire about where she had learned her music, he seemed to want to avoid the subject of his behavior altogether, if not every subject she brought up. He opted for silence over everything else, and only carried out his duties with a silent thoroughness. Dahlia watched him work with a soft sadness, and devoted her time trying to get him to brighten up a little. She had gathered up her little chessboard and pieces, and held it up to him, urging him to play with her. The butler didn't look at her, but said simply, "I'm too busy for that nonsense."

Sad, Dahlia sighed and walked away, defeated. She had tried to help him with his work, but he ended up pushing her out of his workspace and saying, "You're a lady of high society. That is my job. Stop being a nuisance."

From what she gathered, he just wanted to be alone.

Honoring his wishes, the little girl now sat upon her bed, holding her little doll in her hands. Looking into that little crystal blue bead, she felt the trickle of sadness drip against her aching heart. The song was supposed to gain his approval, not cause him to alienate her. She did not understand why he was behaving as such; he had looked like he enjoyed the recital. He had even danced! However, his demeanor refused to budge from it's silent stoic state, and she felt uneasy. She did not blame the music, but rather herself. She must have gotten something wrong; missed a note, or perhaps she stumbled on a piece and upset it's beautiful rhythm. Perhaps she gave him a headache, and he was upset with her for playing so shoddily. The more she considered what might have gone wrong to cause him to act in such a way, the more she felt a guilty depression grip her little heart.

She sniffed, biting back a little tear that bubbled up in her eyes, before she sat up straight and whispered softly, "Faust, what did I do to deserve his scorn?"

The silent little doll just stared up at her, his lifeless sapphire eye bearing no comfort for the little girl's unease. She sighed heavily, clutching the little doll to her chest, "Things were fun when I could watch my toys dance... but, without my candles, I can't play with you the way I used to."

She looked timidly over at the little black cabinet that remained secured, the light of the fireplace bathing it in a soft orange glow that flickered menacingly. Dahlia hugged the Faust doll to her small chest, feeling her heart beat a little faster with fear. Within that cabinet was her beloved life giving candles, but amongst them now dwelled that mischievous little toy that had given her nightmares for the past few days. She shivered a little, drawing the little shawl up around her shoulders in an attempt to shelter herself from the nonexistent wind.

Despite her fears, she glanced back down at her little porcelain treasure, and said, "I really do wish that I could make you move again."

The little girl decided that she would seek out her only source of comfort in the cold dreary realm of uncertainty. Getting up from the bed, she walked across the floor to her violin, which sat in the chair, missing the touch of it's owner's fingers. Embracing the neck and bow with her small hands, Dahlia brought the violin up to her shoulder and played a few solemn notes. She glanced over at her little Faust doll, which watched her intently as she fiddled with the instrument. She considered it for a few moments, before she brought the bow up and began to play the familiar playful melody that she had used many times before. Though she lacked the essential candles for the proper awakening, she played the doll's song, looking at the little Faust doll as he stared right back at her.

Then, it twitched.

Dahlia gasped, taking a step backwards as the little doll suddenly opened it's mouth in a silent moan, and threw it's head back, it's little fingers twisting in it's silken hair with a maddened grip. The little girl's eyes widened in terror, as the doll thrashed on the covers, as if in burning pain. Seeing that it was in peril, the little girl took a timid step towards it, only to have it turn onto it's side and stagger up to it's feet, quivering and twitching as the music continued. The Faust doll then looked up at her with a piercing sharp blue stare, eye wide and flickering in the light of the fireplace, illuminating the severe state of discontent within that little porcelain head. Dahlia, though she was scared of the doll's unexpected behavior, felt a spark of accomplishment within herself, a sense of graduation from bringing the little doll to life without the assistance of the enchanted candles. However, as she watched the tormented toy's awkward dance upon the bedsheets, her pride was eclipsed by a faint veil of dread.

All around her, she could feel the pressure of darkness; a deep chill that crawled on spindly fingertips along her spine, and a looming feeling behind her that somewhere and everywhere within the room, were eyes trained on her. Slowly, that inkling of dread began to focus itself to one point; directly behind her.

Her breath catching in her chest, the little girl bit her lip in anxiety, her little body shivering from her own personal fear, as she slowly turned around to glance briefly over her shoulder.

The darkness of the room, as solid and claustrophobic as it had been, yielded no flesh eyes that belonged to the deadly stare that had caused her such paranoia. However, as her own crystal blue orbs looked around the room, eyes wide with panic, her attentions were drawn to the many lifeless glass and painted eyes of the toys that lined her room. Feeling a twinge of fear blossom into a rose of pure panic, Dahlia jumped out of her skin as she heard a small thud sound from the floor behind her. Looking down, she barely caught a glimpse of the azure coated Faust doll, as it staggered blindly across the room; twitching and quivering abnormally, every joint tweaking in a random matter. The possessed little toy picked its way blindly though the room, and Dahlia's eyes widened further with fear, as the little Faust doll's destination loomed into view; the black cabinet.

As Dahlia opened her mouth to cry out at the little doll, it laid it's hands down upon the tiny silver handles, and pulled. Luckily for the little girl, the doors stayed closed, held shut by the single lock. Feeling a deep sense of relief, Dahlia exhaled, with a little smile, remembering the cool metal that lay suspended on a ribbon around her neck. She would have giggled at her own foolishness, if it wasn't for the immediate feeling of something of light wieght grasping ahold of her skirt and making it's way up her nightgown. Looking down, she could barely make out the outline of the little Faust doll, as it scaled her garment like a cloth mountain, it's eye glinting up at her with a possessed madness. She screamed, wanting to break it's hold on her, only to realize that she couldn't remove her hands from her violin. Try as she might to will her hands to abandon their practice, they refused to submit to her will, playing as if they were only designed for that purpose alone. Desperate, the little girl tried to move her legs to dislodge the little doll's grasp on her, but it was no use.

Sure enough, the little Faust doll reached it's tiny hands up to grasp ahold of the ribbon that rested about her neck, tugging on it frantically to break it's hold upon the little silver key. Feeling the jerking of the ribbon cutting into her delicate flesh at the back of her neck, and unable to free her hands to even release the ribbon herself, Dahlia shook her head, shouting for the little doll to let her go. With one great tug, the doll finally tore the ribbon free of the little girl's neck, and toppled down to the ground, clasping in it's hand the key. Dahlia toppled onto the bed, and watched as the doll once again went back to it's previous task, her eyes widening in terror as it planted the key into the keyhole embedded in the cabinet's face.

Slowly, she heard the sound of the tumblers rotating within the lock, each one as deafening as her own pounding heart beat. Ages she waited, staring at the little black cabinet. The Faust doll collapsed backwards onto the floor with a little thud, and lay still as a brick. Dahlia's fingers were still glued to their instruments, and although she had fallen against the bed, they continued to play the haunting tune on their own accord. She struggled to get a grip on her own fingers, praying that they would surrender their grasp upon the hot violin and bow. She could feel the sting of blisters beginning to well up on her fingertips, and she felt the feeling of fear grip her as she heard the tiny creaking of the cabinet doors from within the darkness. Her eyes widened, as she looked at the little box, and saw a small white hand emerge from the depths of the cabinet's maw, pressing against the inside of the little doors. Bathed in the flickering orange of the wicked flames that crackled within her fireplace, the little Devil doll looked up at the girl, little garnet eyes twinkling with a sly menace. Upon that delicate milky porcelain face, slowly crept a small smile.

Dahlia's breath froze in her throat, as she saw the little doll walk towards her, little steps making _pit pat _sounds against the floor. Shaking her head, the little girl cried, "I'm not playing for you!"

The little doll paused, tilting it's head to the side as if contemplating what she said, if not mocking her. The possessed melody continued, and the doll smiled further, taking a few more steps towards the little maiden. Dahlia got up from the bed, and tried to back away from the doll towards the door, but the little toy had other plans. In a blink, it was gone within the dark, and Dahlia whirled around, hearing little tapping noises within the room. Looking all around, she thought she saw the little Devil, standing amongst her other toys, who's glass eyes now looked like they were all trained on her. Dahlia would have screamed with fright, backing towards the only source of light within her room; the fireplace. She could feel those cold hard stares pressing against her flesh, pushing her back towards the flickering flames with sharp daggers of cold.

A loud tapping sound caused her to whirl around, and she came face to face with two glittering ruby eyes. The little Devil stood upon the mantle, one hand behind his back, the other lying at his side. The doll smirked softly, and Dahlia felt as if her feet had rooted themselves to the floor, refusing to obey her desperate need to tear from that crimson stare and bolt out the door. She gulped, and the little doll reached one small delicate hand towards the little girl's face, and lighter than a feather, caressed a line along her jaw to her chin, bringing her face closer to him. Dahlia's heart froze, as the Devil doll opened it's mouth, and in a soft, dulcet voice, said two words: "_Fetch him._"

Dahlia's feet flew from the room, and no sooner had she gone down the hall, then the violin fell free from her fingers, to clatter upon the floor. The little girl ran up the stairwell towards the loft, and grasped ahold of the handle, tearing the door open and running into the darkened room, praying that Ciel would wake up quickly.

**† † † †**

Ciel was rudely awakened by the feeling of ten small fingers gripping ahold of his shoulder and shaking him back and forth rather roughly while he lay in his bed. Turning to his side to see the cause of the irritation, he could barely make out the outline of his little mistress. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eye, and tiredly bit, "What are you doing awake?"

The little girl looked disturbed, her eyes wide in terror and her little fingers gripping his shirt with a deep urgency. Ciel could hear her heart beating rapidly, like a bird's, and her breath was ragged. Concern gripping him, he opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, only to have her already whisper, timidly, "Ciel... come to my room."

The butler's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as the little girl embraced him, conveying just how terrified she truly was. Her little body shook uncontrollably, and she whimpered softly. Looking up at him, the little girl continued, "Ciel... you know that Faust doll of mine?"

The young man nodded, studying her little face with with one eye with deep concentration, as she took a deep breath and continued, "W-well, he... he belonged to a set."

"A set?" Ciel repeated, his own sense of dread gripping him almost immediately, as she nodded her head heavily.

"H-he came with a partner," she said, looking up into his eye, seeing the darkened expression of dread creep up into his face. Ciel felt the pit of his stomach churn with painful unease. Within his heart, he felt the crystals blossom, their spires stabbing through the walls of his being with paranoia and fear, as the next words to spill from the little girl's lips confirmed that his fears were real, "_What is Faust, without his Devil_?"

Ciel's body froze in place, staring down at the little girl. Deep within his diamond shell, the darkness within the pit of his existence seized his mind, gripping it with an iron fist and squeezing tightly. Ciel found it almost difficult to breathe, but something else lurking within the recesses of his consciousness demanded he go. A feeling of revenge for the torment sizzling under his skin. Gripping the little girl's wrist tight enough to draw a brief whimper from the maiden, Ciel leered darkly.

"Show me," he demanded, as he abandoned his bed, jerking her along behind him.

The way to the bedroom seemed longer than usual, and the hallways seemed to twist and narrow in places; tricks of the light and his own paranoid mind. If he was correct in understanding it, the Devil Dahlia was referring to had to be Sebastian. If that were so, he had discovered another way, other than penetrating Ciel's mind, to attack him. This was the final straw; the moment he'd be able to confront the malicious beast. He did not know what exactly he would do once he opened the door, but as Ciel and his little captive arrived at the door to Dahlia's bed chambers, he could feel his heart pounding within his chest, threatening to tear free. Reaching out to grasp the cold handle, Ciel felt his entire soul freeze over, as with one slow twist, and the sound of the quivering clicks of the lock giving way like the ticking of his own mortal clock, he slowly opened the only barrier between him and the demon that waited in the darkness beyond.

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Chapter 26 finally!  
Again, I'm so sorry for the long delay in updating. Thank you all for your legendary patience!  
There's been a lot of drama within my home and work life, coupled with a tedious Psychology paper, that has been devouring my time to work on this in a more timely manner. I manage to type out as much as I could each day. HOPEFULLY I'll be able to get the next one out sooner than a week.... =_= I'm so sorry about that.

So, as for this chapter: Ciel's just about had it with this constant head trip. I think waking up straddling Grell would traumatize anybody, that's for sure. Ciel's silence for the couple days that Dahlia was thinking about earlier was the result of him trying not to think of anything that would remind him of the night a few days ago when he got his heart torn apart (I mean, that was really really mean), as well as him trying to recollect his sanity and protecting it.

The doll part actually started scaring me. Here's a fun little story that happened while writing that part: So I'm just typing away, really getting into the chapter, and I get up to make some tea, only to come back and see my little Sebas-chan nendoroid leering at me next to my keyboard. I nearly spilt my tea when I saw him. I forgot I left him there! I had his little glary face on, so it looked like "Why is this not done yet? It's been a week and people are waiting. Finish or die." ^^'' Sebas-chan dollies are very motivational.

Anyway, I will really try my hardest to update the next chapter soon. Don't worry, I will be carrying out with this entire thing, so don't fear me just dropping it cold turkey! ^^ I'll get it done as soon as I can!

Thank you for your reads and reviews, and for your patience!


	27. Chapter 27: Théâtre

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

To those of you who may be wondering; _théâtre _means_ theater _in French_._

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**-27-**

**Théâtre**

Within the oblique chamber, the air was still, baring a staleness to it that Ciel could taste upon his tongue as he drew slow, steady breaths. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, sending echoes throughout the room that sounded painfully loud in his ears. The boy turned his head, examining every dark crevasse within the room with extreme caution and thorough suspicion, as if every shadow within every corner and under every surface housed the demented toy that he was looking for. Ciel looked down, seeing the looming darkness beckoning to him from beneath the bed. Impulsively, he dropped to his hands and knees and looked around within the black void under the bed sheets, as if he could frighten the specter from it's hiding place. However, the blackness yielded nothing but fueled frustration, and Ciel sat up on his knees, scanning the room again with his piercing blue gaze, determined to pin down the doll's hiding place.

"Where are you?" Ciel said, his voice laced with bitterness, as he crawled over to a nearby table and ripped out a pile of hat boxes, determined to expose his target. As his search became more frantic, Ciel spoke loudly, as if he was addressing not only the lady of the chamber, but every other denizen who might be listening within the walls.

"Where is he?" He growled, pulling drawer after drawer out onto the floor, littering the room with miscellaneous garments and objects, "Come out and face me, beast!"

The little girl behind him watched from the doorway, shivering and eyes wide they stayed glued upon the frantic butler's back. She clutched her chest in a defensive pose, trying to suppress her pounding heart while preparing herself for any attack that would launch itself from the darkness. As she watched Ciel grow more desperate, tearing apart her room piece by piece, she bit her lip and offered her own shred of knowledge.

"The dolls can't move without music," she said, revealing her own precious secret with little complication. The boy stopped, and looked at her skeptically, judging whether or not she was telling the truth. Dahlia continued, her small voice trembling, "The Devil doll must have hidden itself somewhere so that you have to play for it to come out."

Despite the ludicrisity of the child's theory, Ciel had little trouble believing it, and gave this new information a thorough consideration. Looking all around the room, Ciel knew one thing to be certain, and he smirked with dark victory as he once again scanned the room for every possible hiding place, "That's perfect. If he can't move without music, I have nothing to worry about. I'll tear the walls apart if I have to."

He looked over at the fireplace, and saw his instrument of destruction, as it loomed like a shadow from it's rack against the wall. Ciel grasped the fire poker from it's resting place, and held it in both hands, looking about the room for his point of attack. His eye fell upon a particularly suspicious space of wall between the writing desk and the armoire, and he advanced upon it, wielding his tool readily with every fiber of his being prepared to tear that blank space apart.

Suddenly, he heard a loud slam from behind him, and the room became covered with a veil of blackness, with only the orange glow of the menacing fireplace to offer light to aid Ciel's vision. As he stood, poised inches from the wall with the metal weapon, he heard a piercing wail from behind him. Freezing, he listened as a defiant melody drifted around his head and turned it towards the source. A small shadow stood by the doorway, limbs moving back and forth conjuring the shrill music from a single violin.

"Dahlia!" Ciel shouted, "What did I tell you? Put that down!"

The little girl's eyes were closed, as her hands continued to work the instrument, filling the room with the eerie life giving melody. As Ciel advanced upon the girl to prevent her from her work, he heard a sound from the tabletop, a soft scratching sound.

He froze once more, and he slowly turned towards the origin of the noise. Standing upon a stack of books was a little doll, though not the doll he was looking for. The little Faust doll stood still, staring up at his flesh counterpart. He was dressed in what looked like the remains of the Queen of Heart's gown; torn apart so that it hung in ragged ribbons about his body. In his hand, he grasped a silver baton, which as Ciel's eyes adjusted to the darkness, noticed that it had a curved axe head affixed to one end. The doll's face chilled him, as that little sapphire orb stared deep into his own, daring him to move.

Suddenly, the doll's mouth curved into a crescent smile; a deranged look overcame that icy stare, and the doll let out a chilling laugh. Ciel took a step back, as the Faust doll continued to convulse with it's own chaotic joy, gripping at it's hair and writhing as if in pain. Ciel watched the doll with fear and confusion, before the doll's head shot up and it launched itself from the tabletop, taking a swipe at the butler's face with it's silver weapon. Ciel felt something brief and sharp glide against his cheek, and he looked at the doll in shock, fingers going up to feel the fresh incision upon his face, and coming down with a slick feeling of warmth.

The doll looked up at him viciously, laughing once again as it stood basked in the hellish glow of the flickering flames. It glided it's hand along the side of the glaive, before it dragged it's fingers down the side of it's delicate face, staining itself with streaks of red. Utterly disgusted by the insane mockery, Ciel chose to attack the doll back, bringing the heavy iron weapon down upon the little toy. The doll dodged it, though it fell onto it's side, dropping it's axe upon the fireplace floor. Ciel grasped ahold of the little item, and put it in his pocket, out of reach of the demented toy. This did not impede upon the Faust doll's joy, as it stared up at him with that menacing little blue bead, and stood up on trembling legs. Shivering and twitching to the music that enveloped it, the cruel little replica continued to laugh, backing up as the fires crackled behind him in chorus of his own giggling.

"You're nothing like me, you disgusting little thing!" Ciel said through gritted teeth as he watched the disturbed plaything teeter back and forth on it's porcelain legs, stepping back into the maw of the fireplace as it's demented laughter continued to ring in Ciel's ears. Not amused by the sheer defiance of the doll's humiliating intention, Ciel raised his weapon to smash the toy apart into a thousand pieces, only as he did, he heard another loud thump echo from the darkness over his shoulder.

The doll took a step backwards, it's dress beginning to blacken with warning of catching fire as the flames beckoned at it's back, welcoming it to a searing Hell, though the little doll continued on with it's insane persistent laughter. Then, from the darkness flew a solid shadow past Ciel's shoulder, and in a flash, it sent the Faust doll falling away from the hellish fire onto the floor beyond the fireplace marble. Ciel's eyes widened, as framed by the backdrop of orange tongues of flame, no taller than half his forearm's length, it's eyes glittering with an inner fire of all it's own, stood a small replica of the dark demon that had long haunted and taunted his existence; the Devil doll.

For a long moment, the boy and the doll stared into each other's eyes, locked in a silent battle of wills to blink. After what seemed like eternity, the little Devil doll's lips curved into a small, soft smile. It's little ruby eyes twinkled mischievously like scarlet stars, and Ciel could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck, as the little toy took a step towards him, it's feet making a small clicks upon the marble. He stood rooted in place, the fire poker lying useless in his hand as he beheld the possessed figurine.

The tiny Sebastian walked to the end of the fireplace, before he took a deep bow, little gloved hand over his heart in salutations. Ciel felt a deep pang within his heart, and an overwhelming urge to dash the toy into oblivion with the heavy metal object hanging limply in his grasp.

"You dare mock me, you vile loathsome thing?!" Ciel barked, finding enough will to raise his arm shakily, bringing the poker up above his head.

The little toy observed his behavior, before it suddenly launched itself from the marble, and Ciel felt a wieght, like a lead ball, collide with his chest, and sent him staggering back onto the bed. As Ciel looked up, eyes adjusting to the darkness, he could make out the outline of the little Sebastian doll sitting upon his chest. The weight upon his ribcage was quite heavy, and the boy found it almost too hard to draw breaths, as he stared up at that accursed creature that straddled him.

The doll turned its head this way and that, as if examining him, it's little crimson eyes flickering in the dark, like two dying stars. As Ciel looked up into that delicate face, he saw that porcelain smile fade a little at the edges, softening as it's head tilted in contemplation of it's giant captive. He couldn't tell what the doll was thinking from it's Mona Lisa expression, but as he stared at that little perfectly crafted face, he felt every emotion well up within his chest, becoming a bonfire of dark emotions that crackled and sparked within the void of his being. He thrashed violently to dislodge the little toy, reaching up one hand to tear it off of him. The doll easily avoided his grasp, standing up and jumping up into the dark veil above, disappearing from his sight.

Ciel sat up, looking around in the dark for the doll. He grasped a handful of the bed draperies, tearing them down one after another with reckless abandon, as if he could send the doll crashing down from it's hiding place as soon as he tore down the final curtain. However, his efforts yielded no fruit, as he lay surrounded by the torn embellishments, looking around desperately in the dark for the little devil that mocked him. All around him were tiny clicking noises, like little feet sprinting along every surface along the wall. He turned his head in pursuit of the clicks, trying to pinpoint their origin. Suddenly, he looked up in time to see the Sebastian doll dive down from above.

He rolled out of the way, and doll landed gracefully upon the bed sheets and sprung off into the darkness once again, quicker than his eye could follow. Ciel quickly abandoned the bed, standing in the middle of the refuse littered floor, spinning around in place looking for the possessed toy. From the blackest corners it taunted him; a crimson sparkle there from behind a stack of books, a white flash from the corner of his eye, the sounds of scratching and clicking echoing about the room in a chaotic tap dance that caused Ciel's hair to stand on end and his heart to pound painfully within his chest.

"STOP PLAYING GAMES!" Ciel shouted, bringing the iron poker smashing against a table, the wood splintering beneath the metal with a loud crack. His concentration suddenly pinpointed the eerie music that continued to flow from Dahlia's violin, and in his desperation to halt the miniature Sebastian's taunting assaults, he advanced upon the little girl, prepared to wrench the infernal instrument from the child's fingers. However, the violin was glued to the girl's hands, and as he pulled and tore at Dahlia's fingers to release them from their task, he saw that his own digits had become slick with a dark liquid.

Looking more intently at Dahlia's hands, he finally saw that they were bleeding; her knuckles white from her own inner conflict to will her hands free from their enslavement to the music. Her eyelids winced in obvious pain, as she mentally refused to continue. Ciel grasped hold of her small shoulders, shaking her violently.

"Dahlia! Stop playing!" Ciel ordered, "Look at me and listen to me this instant!"

Her small head flailed back and forth dangerously upon her frail neck, but his efforts brought the child's eyes to flutter open. Immediately frightened by the frantic expression upon her butler's face, she gasped, before she felt a sharp sting on each of her fingertips. She would have screamed, only as she looked up in panic at the young man's face, she saw looming above his shoulder a small figure, which lifted one tiny finger to it's curved lips, suggesting immediate silence from the child.

She felt her tongue pin itself against the bottom of her jaw, as she opened her mouth wide, silencing her intention of alerting him. Unable to remove her fingers from their flight along the chaotic strings, she could only stand and stare speechlessly as the little doll dropped his hand and jumped back into the darkness beyond Ciel's shoulder.

There was a loud crash that sounded from behind him, and the boy turned around quickly, his sight falling on the gramophone, which had fallen onto the floor. It lay intact and upright, inches away from it's previous perch upon the bedside table. As he took a step towards it, Dahlia let out a scream, and he whirled around again.

Dahlia was struggling against something red. He could barely make out it's outline in the dark as she moved her legs to dislodge it's grip upon her skirt.

As Ciel approached her, the small creature that scaled her dress turned it's head to glare at him menacingly. A sharp blue stare that pierced his eye like a needle, though the boy observed this as only a challenge, and he raised his weapon once more to strike at her small assailant, determined to exterminate the small abomination once and for all. However, as he was about to bring justice upon that porcelain head, something silvery flashed in the light, and parried his blow fluidly. The poker bounced away from it's target, and flew from Ciel's hand onto the floor with a dull thud.

The Devil doll perched itself upon the violin, grasping a set of tiny silver utensils between each finger, looking intently with a bemused smile at the boy who glared at him with a fiery hatred. Those ruby beads flicked down to the movement from the skirts below, observing the little Faust doll as it scaled the mountain of cloth in an attempt to reach the demonic doll sitting aloft.

Those little crimson orbs looked back up at the flesh counterpart of it's determined pursuer, a little mischievous smile lingering on it's lips as it watched him intently, as if saying, "_Persistent, isn't he_?"

Then, it turned it's head to look up at the little girl, startling her to speechlessness once again as it smiled up at her, reaching up one hand to brush a damp strand of scarlet hair away from the little maid's face. Standing up, he glanced back at Ciel, before jumping down from it's perch, and onto the floor, catching the Faust doll and tearing it down from it's climb.

The Faust doll flailed, thrashing violently to escape it's captor's embrace. The demon released him, and the doll turned around defiantly, taking a desperate run towards the Devil doll with it's fist raised. The doll easily sidestepped, and the Faust doll ran past, falling to the floor as it lost it's balance. The little toy picked itself up from the floor and sprinted at the Devil again, trying to shove it with his shoulder. Once again, the miniature Sebastian dodged the Faust doll's advances, and the doll fell down dangerously close to the fire. The Devil doll caught the Faust doll's wrist, preventing it from further displays of desperation, as it frantically pulled and struggled against it's grasp.

"Perhaps it is like me after all," Ciel said coldly, "It's sickened by your touch as well."

The Sebastian replica looked up at him, those eyes searing beneath half closed lids, his smile faded into a thin line. Ciel felt the needles prickle beneath his skin, as that hellfire stare penetrated his mind. The Devil doll turned back to it's victim and closed the Faust doll's eyes with it's hand, and the small toy fell limp within it's grasp. The Devil doll hoisted it's captive into a bridal style hold, and within a flash, it disappeared into the shadows once more.

The room filled with silence, besides the soft, barely audible melody that now issued forth from the strings Dahlia played. The two looked around, Ciel's sight roving about every corner of the room in a dire effort to find the hidden dolls. Not at all entertained by the doll's antics, Ciel was desperate to send this charade immediately, though, as he scoured about on the floor for his weapon, he found that it was gone; a mocking sound of something scraping against the floor beneath the bed being the only hint of it's whereabouts. Ciel refused to fall for the trick, and backed away from the bedside into the open again, rotating his head to scan for any other sign of life.

There was a loud _thunk _that resounded from the other side of the bed, and Ciel rounded the room, looking for the source once more. His eye fell upon the fallen gramophone, which now held up the still form of the little Faust doll, curled up in a crescent within the center of the record. What was peculiar, was that the Faust doll was imprisoned beneath a large glass jar.

The haunting music intensified, and Ciel observed closely upon bended knees as the Faust doll slowly came to, taking in it's surroundings groggily, which soon led to wide, fearful eyes, and frantic beats of small fragile hands upon the glass cage that housed it. It opened it's mouth in muted cries, silent calls that could have been either for help or curses against it's container.

Suddenly, Dahlia cried out, "CIEL! HE'S IN THE GRAMOPHONE!"

Ciel's head shot up, his face inches away from two small crimson eyes that blinked from within the darkness of the large ebony horn. That ivory face flew at him, which caused Ciel to fall back onto the ground as the Devil doll soared past him and landed upon the floor. Turning on it's heel and observing at the fallen boy, the Sebastian replica took slow steps towards him, his face stoic as the fires of the fireplace crackled and snapped in the distance behind him, illuminating him in a orange halo.

"Say something!" Ciel bit ferociously, angered by the game the doll continued to play, "You are putting all this effort into this ghastly mime, why not come out and tell me what you want?"

The doll paused, as if to consider his suggestion, before it opened it's mouth, those tiny lips opening to a black realm within that summoned forth an eerie melody from the past. A song that still lingered at the back of Ciel's mind; a long forgotten memory from his former life, that now, as it flowed from those porcelain lips, now surfaced with a new deep fear of what the cruel doll intended for him. In an echo of Sebastian's voice, the little doll sang: "_London bridges falling down… falling down… falling down…"_

"Why do you sing that song?" Ciel said, gritting his teeth, recalling the last time he heard that accursed melody.

The doll walked up to him, and though Ciel felt the urge to dash the fragile being to pieces, he found his limbs locked in place, as the doll placed it's tiny hand against his jaw, and with an soft, nearly unreadable expression, it continued in a deep, sincere tone,"_London bridges falling down, my fair lady."_

Ciel could feel his blood turn to ice, as he looked down into that small porcelain face, trying his hardest to read that expression. It was almost sad, as if it wanted so much for him to understand what he was trying to convey, yet at the same time, that smile that always lingered at the corners of his mouth seemed to bring a darker shadow to his expression, as if taking joy that the boy was puzzled at his performance, if not was tormented by the fact that the doll's existance taunted him to the point of mentally shattering once more. Ciel, however, lay motionless on the floor, and as he looked upon that perfect face; that mockery of that demon that continued to haunt his very existance, he could feel nothing but hollow. Whatever was left of his heart had been shattered days before, and though the doll was putting it's best effort to render apart his mind and soul, he already felt as if he was dead inside. Those crimson eyes, however, continued to scan him intently, as if searching within the boy's azure iris for any glimmer of an opening to attack. Ciel stared right back at him, silently communicating what words alone could not properly convey; his pure loathing for the abomination that stood before him, and the sheer emptiness that now resided where his soul once belonged.

After a long silent moment, the doll turned it's head. It closed it's eyes for a brief moment, before it backed away, and retreated once again into the shadows. Ciel felt the intense pressure leave his limbs, and he scrambled up to his feet, looking around for where the doll may have disappeared to. He followed a small tapping noise to one of the tables, which housed beneath it a small ebony cabinet. The violin music intensified, and he heard the floorboards creak beneath the little girl's feet as Dahlia made her way to his side, close by his arm as she peeked around him to glimpse the location of the curious tinkering noises.

From the depths of the cabinet, emerged the Devil doll once more, only now he held within his arms a small figure; a white, black, and red construct of cloth and wax, which Dahlia immediately recognized were the molten remains of her beloved candles. The small Sebastian took a few steps forward, until he and his cargo were in proper view, and then he set the doll down on it's own two feet. It tottered clumsily for a brief moment, it's legs unstable from it's soft molding, before it stood up, displaying to it's audience what it was meant to resemble. Wrapped in red with scarlet curls, Dahlia managed to gasp softly with a brief whimper, "T-that's me... isn't it?"

The Devil doll looked up with a small smile, before it opened it's mouth again and sang once more, "_Build it up with sticks and stone... sticks and stone... sticks and stone..."_

The doll stumbled, before it slowly made it's way forward, it's journey clumsy and sluggish, it's body twitching spastically as it fought to will it's limbs to follow the music's lead. Ciel and Dahlia watched, as the wax doll approached, the little girl flinching at every movement the doll made, as if it would harm her in the process of nearly harming itself with it's persistence to obey the violin and the demon's voice. Ciel turned around sharply, as he heard a loud screech sound from across the room, and he rounded the side of the bed once more just in time to see the gramophone slide by quickly to skid onto the marble of the fireplace, it's little captive still under glass as it sat upon the record, it's own vision trained directly on the little imitation of scarlet maiden as it walked towards him.

The wax figurine finally arrived, and it climbed up onto the record player, pressing it's little hands against the side of the glass, leaving streaks of white wax upon the transparent surface. The Faust doll pressed one hand against the glass, as the scarlet doll suddenly collapsed upon the record, lying still once more.

Ciel jumped a little, as a loud _click_ sounded from the record player a couple inches from this scene, and the record player slowly came to life, the record spinning slowly with the two dolls upon it. The young man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, watching as the Faust doll looked up at the ceiling of the glass, pressing it's hands all over the place in an effort to get free. _What did this all mean?_

Dahlia gasped, her voice trembling as she exclaimed, "Ciel, my doll… it's melting!"

The little girl was right; the heat of the fireplace was too much for the doll's makeshift body to handle, and slowly, Ciel watched as the Scarlet Maiden doll slowly deteriorated. The doll within the glass barrier beat it's fists, trying to free itself desperately, though it did not look at the melting toy, but directly up at the ceiling, as if something from above was taunting him. Ciel's eyes followed the little doll's frantic gestures, and fell upon the lone figure of the Devil doll, which now was perched contently upon the gramophone, watching the audience's faces with a humored smirk.

"You're wasting a lot of effort on this charade, Sebastian," Ciel scorned, which caused the little doll's eyebrow to arch slightly, before he looked back down at the drama below, and slid down from his perch onto the top of the glass prison. It knelt down, peering down at the prisoner below that cried out in vain for salvation.

The demon then opened it mouth once more, and the doll beneath him froze, as he softly sang, "_Build it up with silver and gold… silver and gold… my fair lady_."

The Devil doll slowly rose to it's feet, and abandoned the Faust doll, jumping down from the record to the marble flooring below, it's tiny shoes making small _clicks _as it landed.

The doll's crimson eyes once again locked upon Ciel's, a long calculating battle of who would blink first. Ciel noticed as the doll stared at him, that those little crimson jewels were searching his face one last time, as if looking for something specific that refused to show. Ciel gave him nothing to take, his face stoic as he observed the scene in it's entirety.

The porcelain butler finally sighed, turning away from the monolithic audience to the gramophone. Ciel felt a sharp pain form in the base of his skull, sending horrible shivers up and down his spine, as the violin within Dahlia's hands suddenly changed it's melody to a dark, chilling and shrill sonata that pierced his eardrums. The music evolved, and inside Ciel's mind, he could feel it take the form of dancing flames, the heat already rising in his body as his imagination painted a picture of Hell's beckoning infernal fire.

The black doll arrived at the side of the mahogany box that held the record and two dismal toys aloft, and pressed one hand against it. Ciel's eyes widened as with one brief crimson glance from the porcelain Sebastian, the doll shoved the gramophone into the fireplace. Quickly, the flames licked at the sides of the wooden pyre, devouring it with a ravenous hunger. Dahlia shrieked as her doll melted to nothing, and Ciel watched as the Faust doll beat it's panicked hands against the side of the glass, as it slowly blackened; diving the trapped doll into a realm of blind oblivion as the floor beneath him burned away.

Ciel's vision went back to the Devil doll that watched the pair burn with unreadable eyes, the orange of the merciless fires basking him with an unholy light. It's crimson eyes slowly turned back to the boy, giving him one last opportunity to speak, to understand.

"Why don't you just face me in the flesh, Sebastian? What's with these childish games?" Ciel whispered bitterly, though his body shook violently with the suppression of his despair, loathing, and fear, watching as his porcelain counterpart burned in it's own personal Hell. He wanted that doll to speak, to explain this horrible charade that mocked him and caused him to feel such humiliation and discomfort, but Sebastian's wicked silence, besides that brief dismal song, gave him nothing. Only that crimson stare; so knowing, so calculating, so sad, so cruel, graced that doll's crafted features, and as Ciel felt the urge to snatch up the tiny incubus and shake him till talking, the doll walked over to the fires, turned, and opened his mouth once more, "_London bridges falling down... my...fair... lady."_

After one last regarding stare, it took steps backwards into the tongues of flame into the charred remains that was the sacrificed gramophone.

Freed from the demon's captivating spell, Dahlia's hands fell away from her hot violin, her fingers bleeding and fused to the wood as she collapsed onto the floor, exhausted and silently crying from the fear and pain welling up within her.

Unsatisfied with this being his only contact with the demon, Ciel dropped to his knees, and scrambled over to the fireplace, foolishly pawing at the cinders in an effort to coax the doll back and explain itself. Abandoning his shield of composure, he clenched his teeth more out of desperation than pain, and though his fingers burned from the hot coals, and the fire drove off his further attempts to dredge up the toy, Ciel shouted at the fires as if they were Sebastian himself, "HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME?!"

Bitter tears streamed from his eye, and his jaw ached from clenching his teeth so hard, but he continued to cry out, "You vile, loathsome creature! I don't see you for six years, and the time you decide to face me, you're a child's plaything?! You haunt my shadow, you dwell in my dreams, you tear at my sanity, and yet you are too cowardly to face me in the flesh?! Why don't you come for me?! Why do you continue to plague me with such pointless charades?! I'm already in Hell, you stupid creature! What are you trying to convey that I don't know already?! SEBASTIAN! ANSWER ME!"

A loud crack of the fire summoned forth a black form engulfed in flames. It's crimson eyes flashing with a final dire effort, the Devil doll burst from the inferno, reaching one blackened hand up towards the boy's neck. Ciel shot backwards, but he was too late to stop the burning toy from grasping hold of it's target and snapping it free from it's host's throat. With a faint tinkling noise and the roar of the fire, Ciel's glass Ward disappeared forever, as the doll fell back into the sea of flames, never to rise again.

----------

Chapter 27 finally!

I'm telling you, this one gave me nightmares… and I might have to lock up my own little Sebas-chan doll, since he continues to scare the living daylights out of me. For one, I think he really did come to life and hid his 'happy' faces, because I can't find them anywhere. I found his kitty, but it looks like he's glaring at me while he's strangling it… kinda eerie to tell you the truth. He just really wanted this page done, I think. The creepy part will be once I get home, I'll find those faces somewhere out in the open, or freakily, already on. (oooohh~! _)

So this chapter was really freaky to write, and yes, I wrote most of it in the dark. +_+ Scaryyyyy…. Ciel was trying his best to stay composed… he tries so hard… and it's probably a good thing that Sebas-chan decided to scare the living daylights out of him by jumping out on fire and knocking him back, since Ciel's pretty hands are getting all burnt. =_+ It's like "You idiot, quit burning yourself! *shove*" But now Ciel's ward is gone… so… heheheheeheee… we'll see what's in store next chapter~!

By the way, I mentioned this on my DeviantArt journal, but since my computer time has been limited, I've been spending a lot of time sketching pictures out, plenty inspired by Kuroshitsuji. Recently, I've gotten to thinking about Sebas-chan, and about possibly making either a doujinshi (fan comic) or another fanfiction portraying his point of view of this story! Lately, I've come up with three different mini stories for a doujin compilation, one centered on Sebas-chan's point of view (what he's thinking, doing, lalalaa), then there was two others I was playing around with for funsies... anyway, I'd like your guy's opinion on this! Would you like to see me make a doujin, or another fanfiction (after this one), or perhaps neither, or maybe both?! Let me know!

Anyway, I am getting these out as fast as I can… I'm really sorry it's taking me so long, but I'm trying my best. Sebas-chan's motivational! (He'll kill me if I don't! *shiver*) Thank you all for your awesome reads and reviews!


	28. Chapter 28: Traîtresse

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

For those of you wondering; _Traîtresse_ means _Traitor_ in French.

**-----**

**-28-**

**Traîtresse**

Shaking, he brought timid fingers up to grasp in vain at his tender throat, feeling the ghost of the familiar weight that had hung about his neck for six years. The lingering sensation of tiny porcelain fingers wrapping themselves about that delicate metal chain and yanking it free was still fresh, and though his eye watched the hands of flame beckon him towards the ash that once was the dolls and gramophone, he felt encased in eternal ice; unable to break, nor thaw. That doll had carried out it's horrific purpose; depraved of his only protection, he was now exposed to any confrontation that the demon could think of. He had lost his rook, and now his king was open to any attack. Frantically within his mind, he grasped for his next move.

Whatever logic or reason that he had retained after the series of events that plagued him was slowly floating away. Every day had been filled with unexpected illusions, haunting reminders of the fate that awaited him, and each leering from every shadow with deep garnet eyes. However, he couldn't resign himself to a single particular feeling dwelling within, other than the feeling of loathsome helplessness that gnawed on the base of his spine. There was a deep haze clouding his mind, preventing him from any deep thoughts other than contemplating what to do next, and even that was a desperate chore in itself; sweeping away all the clutter of panic in an effort to piece together a comprehensible train of thought. Arranging these debris was like piecing back a full length mirror that had crashed into a thousand pieces upon the floor, and just as painful. In the chaos that was his mind, he was only able to decipher several facts: the doll had been under Sebastian's influence, he was defenseless, and now every shadow, every sound within the house, was suspect to his death toll.

Despite the roaring warmth that blossomed before him like a red chrysanthemum within the black marble fireplace, Ciel's body shivered violently as his mind wildly wrote a comprehensible history. The doll had come to life, and it had tormented him with a play that spelled his personal doom, which the doll had obviously taken delight in; seeing him confused and outraged by the horrendous sight. The demented toy with those infernal irises. The same cruel, calculating orbs that stared deeply into his abyss whenever he closed his eyes. Those garnets that scanned him up and down, knowing well with a silent sadistic pleasure that the boy was completely defenseless. It was only a matter of catching him off guard; asleep in his bed, rounding a corner, blinking an eyelid… the real game had begun, a game of cat and mouse. Ciel knew that the years of frustration trying to pinpoint his whereabouts and his weaknesses would be focused upon creating the most humiliating moment to end him; a moment when he would meet oblivion in the most wicked way possible. Having lost the Ward, he might as well have lost the game altogether. It infuriated him. This humiliation; the aggrivating helplessness and constant state of madness, abandoned alone in the wretched world without a single defense… was because of a toy.

And one person was responsible for it all.

It was so simple. Though he shivered uncontrollably, he managed to finally open his mouth and address the only other form of life within the darkened room, voice stained with a horrible bitterness, as he said gravely,"Why did you buy that doll?"

There was a small gasp that came from behind him, issued forth from the lips of the little scarlet maiden that stood quivering in the shadows. Her abused fingers curled defensively against her chest, she stood watching the fires where the shaking form of her caretaker loomed, his silhouette becoming a forbidding shadow that made the poor child's hair bristle with warning. The slight growl contained within that voice dared her to answer, yet at the same time demanded it. However, the little girl remained silent, her tongue refusing to move as Ciel rose to his feet, his back to her as he continued.

"I told you not to buy that doll. I said to leave it behind, but you didn't listen to me. You purchased it anyway, lied to me, and what a coincidence, you would bring that other vile, disgusting thing to this house," Each word sounded like a execution within Dahlia's ears; condemning her with a mental gavel that struck a deafening blow of guilt within the small girl's chest. Ciel rose to his full height, both hands on either sides of the fireplace as he glared down at the flickering sea, "You could bring dolls to life, and you hid that from me… what other things have you been hiding Dahlia?"

Dahlia stammered incomprehensible syllables, watching with wide sapphire eyes as the pale figure slowly turned, his azure gaze penetrating her mind with razor sharp daggers of wicked judgment, his voice intensifying with volume as he continued,"You have been laughing at me behind my back, haven't you? Thinking you're playing me for a fool. That's why you've been up so late at night, isn't that right? Bringing these wretched creatures to life, plotting for the day you would get the better of me? You've been plotting with him, haven't you?"

He bore down upon her, grasping her small shoulders and shaking her violently, his eye aflame with white hot rage. Despite her frightened scream and desperate wriggling to free herself from her maddened captor, he persisted viciously, "You and Sebastian have been laughing behind my back this whole time, haven't you?! You've been working for him to catch me! A wicked little advocate that could get him closer to me so that he can finally destroy me and win supremacy over me! Just to see my face when I fall! Isn't that right, you little wretched witch!?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Dahlia cried, her shoulders and hands blaring with pain as Ciel's nails bit into her arms and shook her back and forth.

"Do not play stupid with me!" Ciel shouted, "Where is he?!"

"Who?!" Dahlia shouted, tears flowing down her cheeks as she watched her beloved butler transform from a man she had respected as calm and composed, to a dispicable terror, face twisted in desperation and fear as he clutched her tightly in his grasp.

"Who?! Sebastian! That's who! Sebastian Michaelis! The one that little devil doll was immitating!" Ciel barked. Her eyes held something within them, something she was hiding from him. Infuriated by her resistance to reveal her secrets, Ciel's grasp tightened, coaxing another cry from the little girl, and causing her to flail around in an effort to free herself.

"I told you I don't know who you're talking about!" Dahlia said, "I'm not laughing at you! I don't understand what's going on!"

"I told you not to do anything tonight, and what did you do?! You took that damn violin and started playing. Did Sebastian tell you to do that?! Where did you learn that song? Where did you learn both of those damn songs?!" Ciel was enraged. The more he made sense of the situation, the more he despised how blind he had been. Believing that his Hell was limited to the fear of being discovered, the torment of servitude within the Death God's grasp, and the nightmares of life and dreams that plagued him everyday, his final shred of salvation, the one in the world he believed wouldn't be an impact, had betrayed him. Training so vigorously to play the violin every day, of course it would have been beneficial to Sebastian's plans. Ciel felt so naïve, to have easily fallen into such an obvious trap. To have personally pushed the girl to learning such skills that she had used to betray him. Furious, Ciel threw the little girl away from him, watching her stumble a few feet across the room, before she fell against the wall and looked up at him with terrified eyes.

"What is the matter with you?!" She cried, watching as he approached her again.

"Tell me where he is, Dahlia," Ciel said, his voice soaked in deep poison that seeped into the little girl's ears and stung wickedly, causing her to flinch, "Tell me!"

Dahlia looked up at him, terrified. Already overwhelmed by the rebellious dolls, her bloody fingers, her burning toys, the confrontation was too much to bear. She searched inside for the answers that eluded her, hidden deep within a mist. She scoured her memory, and found only the fog, and Ciel's commands bombarding her sanity with heavy artillery. Soon, she was filled with only the steady ringing of his voice, and the sharp pain that blossomed from her shoulders.

Desperate for freedom, and feeling her poor body scream for release from the boy's torment, Dahlia reached a shaking hand into a pocket of her nightgown, and in a quick motion, a stripe of crimson blossomed upon the snow white flesh of Ciel's hand. He looked down, speechless as he observed the line of blood well up from the fresh shallow wound. Looking up, he saw the little girl retreating, trembling, holding out before her the slender body of a small scalpel, blade glistening with a new badge of crimson splatter.

Undeterred from his mission, Ciel stood at full height, towering over the little lady with a darkened shadow of malice, holding his hand before him, "You cut me."

Dahlia's eyes were glistening with pools of tears, which streamed down her face as she backed up into the doorframe, one hand upon the metal handle while the other held the tiny weapon out defensively, "I'm so sorry, Ciel… I'm so sorry."

The young man she looked up to; her one critic that she depended upon and adored, advanced upon her once again, determined to force an explanation from her. An explanation that, quite frankly, she could not offer to him. Her mind was in a black haze of it's own; a realm devoid of thought other than panic from the traumatizing vision before her. She twisted, trying to make sense of his words which continued to translate into a childish mental language of failure and deceit; every word that underlined betrayal, every bitter vicious tone, belted her efforts to please him over the years, and caused her poor heart to break.

Suddenly, within the haze, she could picture an outline of a solid black form, shaped with such expertise, that she could almost fill in the missing features. As if it had been wiped from her mind before, her eyes widened with realization of what exactly had been missing as it slowly became illuminated by a single white light within her head. Feathery black hair… gentle eyes that sparkled like garnets by the candles that had surrounded him, and a small, knowing smile that played at the corners of his mouth as he regarded her troubles with slight amusement. A gentle whisper glided over her chaotic mind, and temporarily offered solace and enlightenment; as it whispered, "_If you wish to please him, tell him…"_

That man…

That beautiful, ethereal being that had imparted his fantastical sonata unto her. The man who looked like an angel within the dilapidated theater, who had held her doll so gingerly with a strange lingering familiarity that she had neglected at the time. She had been so ignorant of the connections… and suddenly, though it was slight, she understood above all that she had been used.

Looking up at her frantic assailant, as the answer revealed itself to her, and she managed to whisper softly, "The… the man I saw…the man who taught me the song for Ciel… he was the doll, wasn't he?"

"I didn't know you were so unintelligent," Ciel seethed with his voice drenched in arsenic, his azure stare deadly cold as his eyelid fell halfway and his eyebrow furrowed angrily, "or else I wouldn't have wasted my time with your upbringing. Perhaps I should have just let your 'mother' influence you completely, that way you would have at least been what you truly are; a rotten, stupid, disgusting little rodent who sneaks around in the dark behind my back to unleash a deadly plague on me!"

Engulfed in the flames of Ciel's vicious words, Dahlia felt crushed, her fragile heart defiled from his painful accusation. Guilt and betrayal festering within her chest, she shook her head, tears sliding down the sides of her face, "I'm not like that! I didn't know, honest!"

"Of course you didn't," he said coldly, "pathetic, traitorous little wretch."

Overwhelmed by the poison's affect, the child cried out shrilly, "Stay away from me!"

She touched the door handle, only to have a pale hand slam against the door, keeping it closed and her contained within his company. Through watered vision, she made another swipe at him with her vengeful scalpel, purposely missing to drive him back, before ripping the door open and running into the hallway, determined to escape his cruel remarks and his horrid accusations that made little sense to the child's ruined mind. Ciel had avoided the second attack, but as he watched the door bounce against the wall and a scarlet curl disappear around the corner, he immediately started after her, determined to acquire the information from the devil's advocate by any means necessary.

Running out of the child's bedroom, Ciel gave chase to the crimson maiden, who he could hear running down the stairs. Possessing a longer stride than the child, he easily caught up with her, as she turned and let out a gasp of surprise, and tore into the parlor. Like a dog upon it's prey, Ciel sprung forward and caught her, knocking her to the ground with a loud _thud_.

Terrified, Dahlia wriggled, though Ciel easily neutralized her defense, locking her one arm wielding the tiny weapon above her head. Despite her thrashing, he began his brutal interrogation, practically barking at her as he assaulted her with question after question, "_Where is he!? Why were you keeping secrets from me!? Do you know what you've done?!"_

"What's going on it here?" Both Ciel and Dahlia hesitated to look towards the voice that spawned from the parlor doorway. Adorned in a scarlet and black striped dress with black roses and feathers tucked in mussed crimson hair, stood a sobering Grell, face slightly reddened beneath smudged make up from his revels that night. His eyebrows were furrowed with suspicion, eyeing the position in which the two children were lying.

"Good, you're back," Ciel said, getting up to his feet, tightly gripping the little girl's wrist with whitened knuckles, hauling her up to her feet, despite her loud protests, and tossing her forwards towards the Death God, "We've had a little spy in our midst this whole time. Your daughter has been working for Sebastian."

Grell blinked blankly, absorbing the accusation, before he furrowed his brows further with deeper confusion, "What?"

"The Ward is gone now, burned," Ciel pointed a finger at the little girl's back, growling fiercely, "She brought him into the house and now I don't have any protection!"

"Him?" Grell's emerald eyes widened in surprise, "You mean… _Sebas-chan was here_?!"

"Yes," Ciel stated, "She brought a doll that was possessed by Sebastian into the house. He came to life and attacked me, and destroyed the Ward in the fireplace."

"ARGH!" Grell groaned angrily, before he stomped one foot on the ground in a haughty pout, "Everyone's getting possessed by Sebas-chan but me! Even my own daughter's getting used by him, and he's not so much as popped up in a hallucination for me! What in the hell is with this unfairness?"

Frustrated, Ciel shouted at the reaper, "Did you hear what I'm telling you?! Dahlia has let Sebastian come here, and now I'm in danger. The Ward is gone, Grell."

The scarlet Death God suddenly gasped, realizing just what that meant, "Will's going to kill me! Those things are rare! Oh, I don't want to loose my scythe so soon! I was just starting to have so much fun!"

"FOCUS!" Cried the boy, frustrated beyond comprehension by his master's inability to see the dire situation burning before him, brighter than the sun and boiling Ciel's blood, "Dahlia knows where he is."

"She does?!" Grell paused mid-motion, and lit up like a candle, his grin suddenly blooming with all of his razor sharp teeth glistening with excitement, "Well then! Take us to him, sweetheart~!"

Dahlia looked up at her mother, feeling inside the desperate need to reach up and beg for relief from the chaos that consumed her troubled mind, though the terror within her that chewed at the back of her skull continued to plague her, fueled by the azure stare that, although she faced away from him, she could feel penetrating her consciousness and encase her soul in ice. She shivered uncontrollably, and she opened her mouth to stammer hopelessly, "I- I don't remember how to get there."

"Convenient," Ciel said coldly.

"Ciel," Dahlia whirled around, "I followed music to him, I swear, I can't remember how to get there!"

"You've already violated my trust," the boy's eye held no love within it; it was empty, devoid of everything save one cruel emotion that stabbed the little girl in the heart and twisted the blade, "don't look to me for help. You're going to lead us there, whether you like it or not."

Looking up at the reaper, he commanded bitterly, "Grell, get your chainsaw. We're going out and ending this once and for all."

The Death God's smile grew viciously, pearly white teeth dazzling, "Ooh~! I love it when you use that tone! It gives me chills~!"

He hugged himself with a lilting sigh, and twirled away from the door to run down the hall, his heels clicking the floor and his giggle echoing from the recesses of the house. Dahlia looked up at Ciel as he glared down at her, "Don't you dare play me for a fool. You will lead us there, and if you try to trick me, I know that your mother will praise me for what I will do to you."

Mortified, the girl could feel the tears pouring down her face in heavy streams, and she felt her throat sting from her sobbing. Unfazed by her tears, Ciel grasped a hold of her hand and pulled her out from the parlor, pushing her towards the front door before his master was even prepared.

Unlatching the lock and pulling the door open, he shoved his captive outside and down the steps. The need to end the wretched game festered within his soul; deep down where his ruined heart once beat, was a vengeful, wrathful spirit that wanted to see that wretched beast crumble to the ground. Armed with his scarlet sword, Ciel would carve that mocking face clean from that demon's head. Then, it would be quite a sight to see Sebastian try to smile, let alone devour his soul afterwards. The sadistic thoughts that brewed within Ciel's mind slowly cultivated a cruel smirk to blossom in the corner of his lips.

Dahlia, however, could no longer stand his company. As soon as they passed through front gate, she made a violent twist in his grasp, and tore her arm free from him, loosing a piece of her sleeve in the process. She quickly dashed down the street, and Ciel, determined not to loose his only lead to Sebastian's whereabouts, tore after her. The pair ran off down the street into the night, and one by one, the lamplights went out overhead, masking their path under a cloak of darkness.

**† † † † †**

Grell ran around upstairs, searching excitedly for an outfit worthy of his long awaited reunion with his beloved. Six years had passed, and surely his luxurious lifestyle had had some sort of impact that he was entitled to show in the best way possible. The choices were beyond endless; Sexy Socialite? Glamorous Diva? Dark Temptress? The combinations went on and on, and as he wasted precious time struggling with the decision between a low cut bodice with black lace and a high necked frock with rubies dribbling down the front in a cascade, he glanced at his beloved chainsaw, lying dormant upon the bed, as if expecting him to hurry and choose.

"Aw, fine then," Grell rolled his eyes, finally selecting the black dress. He struggled with the outfit alone, depraved of his butler. Mentally cursing the fact that the useless cretin wasn't there the moment that he needed him most, he pulled at the ribbons of the front facing waist corset, and fluffed it out so that it puckered and flowed in all the right places. He quickly fixed his make up, and lavished himself with layers of marvelous ruby and onyx tear drop necklaces.

Admiring himself in the mirror, and pausing to fix a few subtle problems with his hair and ornaments, he stood back and smiled happily. Yes, the dark mistress that stood before the mirror was indeed an enchanting succubus; but still a proper lady. He was undeniably irresistible, and he felt the giddiness well up in his chest and explode like fireworks. Laughing blissfully, he hugged himself and twirled on his toe, grasping the handle of his chainsaw and throwing a feathery black shawl over around his neck and over his shoulders, he danced out of the room and down the hall.

He stood at the gate, looking at the realm of black that the street had been delved into. With every lamp dead, and no people in sight, Grell had no idea where to begin looking. Extremely irritated that he had been left behind, he stomped back and forth, twirling his wicked scythe about in the air. Suddenly, he heard a little hiss, and he turned his head to look over at a box stacked against a wall not far off. Sitting upon the box, he could just see the outline of a cat. Othello licked it's paw nonchalantly, before it placed it back down upon the box, curled it's spine, and hissed viciously once more, challenging the red haired devil that stood just mere feet from him.

Raising one eyebrow, the reaper smiled wickedly, "Oooohhh, challenging me, eh? I'm going to love carving you to pieces and turning you into a pair of gloves!"

Anxiously, he revved the chainsaw, and it let out a mighty laugh, which it's wielder echoed with a demented cheer, "Listen to my meow, you mangy pest!"

The cat bounded away from the box, and sprinted down the road, while the crimson Death God pursued, swinging his chainsaw wildly as he chased the feline into the darkness.

**† † † † †**

The air was still and chill, and the world continued to steep into black, as the lights blew out one by one. With every frozen inhalation of the night air, the little girl's lungs stung, as if she had swallowed a bundle of needles. Her heart pounded heavily against her chest, as hear head whipped around, trying to see in the void behind her if her pursuer still followed suit. Ciel's footsteps still echoed in her ears, but as she ran blindly down the many streets and alleys of her Parisian neighborhood, she heard them slowly fade back to a couple yards behind her. She did not believe him to have abandoned her altogether, as the sound of his feet striking the pavement failed to disappear completely.

She ran, desperate to get away. The more the chase persisted, the more she felt the pain grip and overwhelm her; the ultimate fear of what he would do, with that deadly blue stare still blaring within her head behind her eyelids. She had recalled the day she saw him, catatonic and covered in blood both his own and another's, and she knew that he was capable of doing horrible things to her once he caught her. That genuine terror gripped a hold of her, pumping her adrenaline up to extraordinary heights. What's more, she desired within her deepest part of her being, to find that dilapidated theater, to find the man who had manipulated her into assisting him in hurting her beloved butler, and ask him one simple question; "_Why?_"

She turned down a dark corridor, and noticed up above in the deep dark blue sky a black shape of a raven, perched upon the head of a gargoyle. It regarded the little maiden with a loud _caw, _and took off, floating upon the wind down an adjacent alleyway. Hearing the thuds of Ciel's footsteps grow louder, Dahlia followed the bird, listening to the beat of it's wings as it flitted out of view. Through the twisting labyrinthine networks of Paris's narrow back roads, Dahlia fled, until she saw a single light come into view; a single street lamp flickering in a barren boulevard.

Dahlia paused at the lamp, looking around her at the familiar surroundings; the lonely street lined with derelict buildings, each marked with dribbling red paint that read 'condemned'. Hearing her pursuer once more, the scarlet maiden tore away from the black metal post, and sprinted down the street, looking around for that fated location, that broken auditorium where the apparition haunted the stage, playing his irresistible sonata. The street felt like it stretched on for miles, and her entire body ached horribly; every muscle and joint screaming for rest. She was frozen, her face stung from the tears, and her throat burned from the forced flight, but she ran on, desperate to find that building.

When it arrived into view, she could feel relief well up in her eyes, as if salvation lay beyond those doors. As she arrived at the entrance, she heard a _caw _sound from above, and she looked up, seeing the bird she had pursued perched upon a the marquee looking down at her. It turned it's head to the side, and then beat it's wings twice, to alight once more into the darkness overhead. Abandoned, Dahlia slipped into the derelict theater.

**† † † † †**

Ciel had followed closely behind her, though as he pursued, he felt almost as if the girl had been graced with unmatchable speed, just enough to evade him. The scarlet maiden led the way into a path of darkness, and he barely lost sight of her as she ran ahead. He could feel his entire being urging him onwards, demanding he find the answer to his turmoil, though after a while, his body began to complain from the strain, his legs hurting from the sting of the chill air and the cold cobblestones against his soles.

He needed to find her; he needed to find her to get to him. Every piece of him screamed for retribution; a final solution to his nightmarish existence. If he should fail that night, then his soul would be devoured, and even then, he was prepared. Oblivion was better then the scarlet Hell he lived in. His only salvation a traitorous wretch that stepped upon his fingers as he hung above the fiery chasm, he was ready to see darkness. However, if he were to finally bring an end Sebastian's wicked torment, then he would die successful, still dominant over the demon that had so desperately tried to break him. He would show him; he would frustrate him to the point of cracking apart, knowing that Ciel Phantomhive would never bow to that former servant, that defiant liar that had betrayed him and tossed him into a mockery of his very existence.

The more he pursued her, the more he felt the anger boil beneath his skin and fuel his stride. He noticed as the world behind him was completely engulfed in darkness, and he could almost feel crimson eyes watching him as he ran, pushing him forward. Every shadow held a spy, and each one could see into his soul. Gritting his teeth, he ran onwards, determined to find the little girl and finally banish those cruel eyes from his sight forevermore.

He heard the distant crowing of a raven, and the echo of it's wings beating against the wind. Knowing it to certainly be _his_ agent, the spectral boy could feel the poison bubble and froth within him, preparing to be unleashed upon the demon he was fast approaching.

Around one particular corner, Ciel finally lost sight of the little girl, and he stood in the absolute darkness, hearing only the steady beating of the raven's wings and his own frantic heart. His legs prepared to give out underneath him from the relentless chase, he stumbled about in place for a moment, trying to get his bearings. Figuring his only clue was the bird's wings, he willed his body to continue onwards, following the sound of the raven. Down endless winding corridors and empty streets, the bird's flight led him onwards, and soon, he was released onto a peculiar lifeless street, alit by a single lamplight.

Ciel looked this way and that, uncertain which way to go. Both ends seemed to stretch on uninterrupted for miles, and he noted that every building had been slathered in red paint and were beyond disrepair, as if they had been uninhabited for decades, left to rot and weather. The wind was dead there, and the air bore a familiar stale quality that was thick upon his tongue and bore a bitter taste that made his mouth feel like it had swallowed a wad of cotton.

Looking around for some clue, he happened to look down, and saw that upon the cobblestones, was a little crimson smudge. Bending down, he confirmed that the substance was indeed blood. Realizing that Dahlia must have cut her bare foot while eluding him, his glance followed upwards, and noted that a series of little red smudges led down the street, creating a crimson trail for him to follow. Given a proper lead, he followed it. The street stretched on and on, and the buildings around him gave him an almost claustrophobic feeling as he closed in on one particular building; one bearing ornate sculptures, a single slanted blank marquee, and a slightly ajar door that beckoned for him to enter.

Feeling the wind sucking upon his body to enter the derelict theater, Ciel took a single, steady breath, balled his fist, and slipped into the darkness beyond the door, prepared to face the hungry demon that waited deep within the belly of the black abyss.

**† † † † †**

Dahlia cried out in pain, as she failed to avoid the shards of glass that littered the floor of the theater lobby. Holding her wounded foot in her hands, massaging the pain from it in vain, she could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks in great rivers, filled with both pain and despair. Picking herself up off the floor, she limped down the right wing, traversed the hallway towards the broken doorway to the concert hall, blood trailing behind her as she took step after ginger step.

The massive room hadn't changed; yet this time, she held little wonderment was she struggled on her ruined foot towards the drapery wreathed stage. The atmosphere was still and dark, save a series of candelabra that sat in no particular order upon a section of the stage, alighting the massive sheer curtains that still hung from above. The most notable change, however, was the complete silence that choked the empty decaying amphitheater. Upon the hardwood floor of the stage, she hobbled towards the lights, and as she rounded the corner, she tripped over a fallen pole, and landed with a dull _thud _against the ground. She recoiled with the fresh pain, holding her scuffed elbow to her abdomen with a loud sob.

Suddenly, she gasped shallowly as she heard a series of gentle footfalls against the wood, and felt the presence of another from behind her. She felt a warm hand touch her arm softly, and though her whole body was frozen from catatonic fear and sadness, she felt a small flicker of comfort from the subtle touch. She slowly turned to look up at her company, and beheld the one who was responsible for her current state. Face as beautiful and captivating as the moment she first saw him playing his remarkable instrument, captivating garnet eyes baring a look that closely resembled concern, and clad once more in a suit composed of woven night, knelt the unearthly performer.

"Oh dear," he said softly, examining the state of which the little girl was in, "you really ought to have worn shoes if you want to go venturing out at night."

Dahlia stared up at him, wondering what question to ask first. Before she could inquire, he held out a hand to her, his honey slick voice saying, "Such wounds will get infected if you do not treat them properly."

The little girl was helpless, her mind overwhelmed and her petite body aching from her midnight chase, she easily gave in to his offer to accept his hand. She stood up, rather rickety, and slowly followed his lead to the lone chair that still sat upon the stage. Sitting down, she folded her hands onto her lap, hanging her head while she sniffled sorrowfully, whimpering from the pain that resonated from her tender heart.

That hand softly smoothed her damp bangs aside, and lifted her chin gingerly, coaxing the little maiden to look up from her lap into those crimson orbs, as he asked her softly, "What is a young lady such as yourself doing running around in the dead of night?"

After a long moment, through quivering lips, the small child said, "You're the Devil, aren't you?"

The young man looked at her with his crimson eyes, considering the scarlet maiden who stared back at him, shaking from fear, crippled by the pain that blossomed from the wounds in her feet, hands, and heart. Upon those smooth lips, crept a small, subtle smile, as he said, "Something like that, I suppose."

"Why did you use me?" she choked, her voice raw from exhaustion and grief, "Why did you use me to hurt Ciel?"

The man was quiet for a moment, those eyes trained on her face with an almost undecipherable expression. For a brief moment, she thought she witnessed a look of regret, if not concern flicker in those eyes, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was so certain, so matter-of-fact, that no regret seemed possible, "Some things are necessary."

"Why?" Dahlia repeated, her voice sad and unsteady, "Why me? Couldn't you have done it yourself? Why are you hurting him?"

Those eyes almost bore a look of insult at her words, though his voice said, "I did what I had to, and I do what must be done. It's none of your concern."

Then, he paused, and smirked ever so slightly, closing those crimson eyes with a subtle pause, "It seems like we have company."

He rose to full height, and said, "I shall go receive them. Please wait here until I return, my lady."

The young maiden watched, as the demon turned his back to her, and with several strides, he disappeared beyond the heavy drapery barrier. Abandoned in the decrepit concert hall, Dahlia hugged her chest, pulling her feet up onto the chair to sit in a little ball; a fortress of arms and legs that would offer her sanctuary as she healed her wounded sanity. She closed her eyes, and listened to his footfalls against the hardwood floor, as they slowly faded away into the darkness.

After what seemed like ten minutes of complete silence, save her own pounding heart, Dahlia once again heard the familiar sounds of feet upon the stage's surface, and she slowly raised her head up from her flesh and cloth fortress, expecting to see the demon once again. However, who she saw was not the man composed of moonlight and darkness; it was another demon, one of mortal flesh and blood, who's azure gaze held a deadly leer that froze her breath within her chest.

"Ciel," She whispered, as she felt her heart sink into her stomach, and she hugged her knees even tighter to her chest, "… forgive me."

-------------------

After a very long wait, 28 has finally arrived!

This one was incredibly hard to write, I tell you… and the next one is just as difficult. Don't get me wrong, I am SO excited about the next few chapters (especially 29~!), but arghhh… so hard! This one had gone through multiple writes and rewrites to get to this form, and boy, I started crying after what's been happening for this chapter and the next! _

But lalalala~!! Sebastian is back! In the flesh this time!! (I promise, for reals guys)

So, sorry that it took me forever this time… I really should have released this sooner, but I wasn't happy with any of it's predecessors…. (I've decided, however, that I will be turning one of the scenarios I came up with into a doujin, since it was too delicious to pass up, but would have killed the suspense BIG TIME). By the way; I've got a site that I'm working on; called Ironic Romantique~! It's basically a Kuroshitsuji fansite; I'm working on putting up information, image scans, doujinshi scans, web resources like layouts, avatars, and the like, and I'm making it a little hub where you can find some of my works that don't fit anywhere else (or everywhere and it's too confusing to find them all over the place). Like for example, you can find that radio playlist I keep talking about for this story, my doujinshi, future flashworks (YES! I'm working on one!). Hehehe… anyway, if you're interested, check out ironicromantique[dot]webs[dot]com.

Side story of the week; so my friends are just as much of Kuroshitsuji nuts as I am, and they've decided to cosplay Ciel, Sebastian, and Lau for Halloween! (naturally, I'm Grell. Hehehee~!). So, we're gonna be having tons of fun this Halloween playing our parts as the Kuroshitsuji group. I'm really excited, because Michael (who's playing Ciel! ^^) looks just like him with his wig and eye patch on! I'm hoping he stays in character, which shouldn't be a complete problem, since he's a total brat already. My friend Alan is going to dress up as Sebastian, and my friend Stephenie's being Lau! (Alan was initially gonna be a vampire... silly rabbit! I'm glad he's being Sebby though! ^^ Means I get to have a lot of fun!) Anyway, the outfits are taking forever to make. We're making the outfits but with a Halloween spin. I've been helping to make Ciel's, and damn, hard as hell! Especially with that little brat complaining every ten seconds for every time I have to stick pins in the fabric for sizing. I'm convinced at this point that Ciel wears that eye patch because his seamstress popped him one in the eye for complaining every ten seconds (alright, I know that's not true, but still). I can't wait! Hopefully I'll get the opportunity to post up pictures on my site sometime!

Anyway, I've rattled on enough. If I don't post Chapter 29 before Halloween, **HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE**! Thank you very much for your wonderful faves, reads, and reviews~!


	29. Chapter 29: Âme

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering; _Âme _means _Soul _in French.

-----------------

**-29-**

******Â**me

Ciel's knuckles were white as he clenched his fists, his azure gaze beholding the solemn child that sat parallel to him, exhausted and dripping blood upon the floor from minute wounds. A small fraction of his heart, almost miniscule, observed the image of the child's despair with a glimmer of concern; a want to tend to those wounds. He couldn't help but feel a deep, dark nostalgia, as if it was a glimpse of a child he had once known years before, chained and wounded within a cage, silently praying for help, yet receiving nothing. However, the betrayal he felt within his heart; the hopelessness and the helplessness that plagued him, suppressed whatever empathy he possessed, and caused him to quiver with longing for retaliation.

Six years he had dedicated to serving that household, and six years he had considered himself somewhat secure in that miniature world he had labored to create. Though the child was indeed the mistress, and he, the butler, he had worked hard to establish a small piece of salvation within the bond of teacher and pupil; the only place where he still considered himself the leader, and her, the devoted follower. He had perceived her efforts to impress him as proof he was still genuinely respected and had at least one person in the world that remained loyal and honest to him, intelligent enough to reject corruption, and motivated enough to excel. Though this tiny refuge of his superiority had been a mere speck hidden within the shadow of the life of the Earl of Phantomhive, it had been the only thing he had held onto to keep the memory of that ever fleeting feeling alive.

Now, as he stood away from the small child, he saw her within a different light; a vision of six years corrupted by his poisonous grudge. Every memory was now awash with a deep crimson color, and he could feel his resentment deepen as his mind rewrote the small maiden's every attempt at pleasing him into visions of her wickedly smirking behind his back, laughing lyrically as he remained completely unaware of her treachery. The more that he looked at her, the more the pain gripped him, and he felt the ultimate feeling of loneliness once again grab a hold of his shoulders and press down like a ten ton weight upon his spine.

"Ciel," he heard her voice; small, soft and raspy, whisper, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

"Sorry?" Ciel said, tasting the noxious poison steeping every word as they tumbled from his lips, "Your apology is worthless."

The girl's crystal blue eyes dimmed slightly, as she hung her head.

"Though, I should probably thank you," Ciel continued bitterly, as he took a step towards her, "for reminding me that the world is filled with nothing but disgusting, treacherous people. Even from birth, we're all loathsome creatures. I surround myself with nothing but wild dogs, and even the pups will bite and tear at my flesh, given the opportunity. I've merely underestimated your potential, that's all."

Dahlia didn't lift her head as he approached, nor acknowledged his painful words, as if she was deaf to his insults. However, her tears flowed freely, dripping upon her lap as she cried silently, his shadow eclipsing her sorrowful form.

"It's my fault," Ciel said, "for being such a fool."

"Yes," Dahlia whispered, as she looked up at him slowly, "You're a fool for being so blind."

Ciel glared at her as those eyes defied him, staring at him through those tear glossed orbs, and he felt the anger bubble up and overflow within him. Within that decrepit tomb of art long dead, Ciel wanted nothing more than to pummel that defiance into the ground. That look of cold azure that challenged his long established authority, he wanted it to disappear. He felt a burning sensation trickle into his arm and pool at the tips of his fingers, and as the pair contested with equally accusing glares, Ciel swiftly raised his hand up high, and, feeling every fiber of his being roar at him in union to make the child's head spin, he brought it down.

But the sharp pain did not awaken from the action, for it was suddenly halted. A firm grasp latched down upon the young man's slender wrist, and killed the violent intention instantly.

Ciel remained frozen in place, staring off into the space between himself and his surroundings. The feeling of that hand upon his flesh, radiating a soft coolness that was so real, so refreshing, that for a brief, lilting moment, that young man felt the inferno of his rage become awash under a bath of cold freshwater. All was momentarily silent and still, and as he stood there, feeling the presence of something solid and tall standing behind him, Ciel closed his eye for a moment, and just let his mind drift back into a calm cold sea, ferried by the scent of black tea and white roses.

"I must say," that deep, calm voice said from behind his ear, "that is rather harsh treatment."

With that voice as it's usher, all of Ciel's resentment blossomed in full bloom, and he could feel his whole body begin to tremble involuntarily; the prickling in his skin where the demon held his fragile wrist aloft became almost painful. He felt his mind emerge again from it's brief moment of solace into a world wreathed in flame. Instantly, he felt a hatred, so dark, so bitter, that it coated his entire mouth with malice, as he hissed painfully, "Let go of me."

Undeterred by his captive's wicked protest, the keeper sweetly addressed the little girl, who watched the pair with empty sapphire eyes, "Please excuse us. We have much to discuss, and I'd rather it be private."

Ciel watched as Dahlia initially resisted the request, remaining stationary in the chair. He could almost see the demon's eyes narrow in severity, as the little girl reluctantly lifted herself from the chair, and walked off into the darkness beyond the stage, abandoning Ciel to the clutches of the devious demon that possessed him.

"My, you haven't grown much, have you?" The shadow teased, though Ciel gritted his teeth and repeated his demand for freedom once more, and was ignored, "Though, I suppose saying you look the same is incorrect… you look nothing like how you were once upon a time."

"And who's fault is that?" Ciel growled.

"Time, I suppose," Sebastian said, as Ciel felt another hand creep up to rest upon his stomach, as if in a mock version of an embrace, "though, I find it amusing that I must still look down at you. I can still see the crown of your head, despite the time we've spent apart."

"Then you got what you wanted, didn't you?" Ciel said cynically, his bitterness staining every word, "you're able to tower over me. Congratulations on your achievement."

Sebastian exhaled softly, before he continued, "How long has it been since we last conversed like this?"

Though it was rhetorical, Ciel answered through clenched teeth, "Six years and four months."

Ciel closed his eye, his body shivering as if it had been encased in ice and snow. Six years of wrath slowly bubbled and frothed, and it became the most potent poison upon his tongue, as he said, "Six years of servitude. Six years of hiding, six years of abuse, six years of pain, six years of headaches, six years of haunting visions and suspicious noises, and six years of seeing nothing but crimson eyes!"

Suddenly, Ciel twisted around, and his vision finally beheld the genuine crimson gaze of those beautiful twin garnets resting within a face composed of pure alabaster. Those two entrancing eyes that looked down at him stoically as he glared viciously, like a wounded animal in a trap.

"SIX YEARS SEBASTIAN!" Ciel shouted, "Six years you left me to rot! Six years you left me in Grell's clutches, to whatever dirty desires he could think of! You left me to this blood soaked Hell, and every moment of every day, if I was not entirely miserable with all the humiliation and desperation to just live, you would be there; tormenting me with that infernal gaze of yours! Always criticizing me, always judging me!"

"Are you implying that a choice you made was my fault?" Ciel's mouth froze, as those cruel eyes bore into him; cold as ice and sharp as daggers, "Did I force you to make a deal with Grell Sutcliff?"

Ciel felt the hand wrapped around his wrist tighten slightly, and looked into that face defiantly as the demon spoke, "All of this has been your choice, and your choice alone. Everything that has come to pass have been nothing but consequences for the choices you've made. I did not force you to bargain with a Death God. I did not force you to return to London after I left you in Paris before… and I did not force you to make the pact with me."

The boy fell speechless, and watched in silence as Sebastian loomed over him, and continued darkly, "All of it has been your choice. However, instead of accepting your consequences, you make more deals, and as a result, you end up tangled within this wretched Hell, and blame others besides yourself."

"Force me?!" Ciel spat, as he wrenched his arm free from Sebastian's grasp, "You dare say such a thing?! Are you implying that I am to blame for that night, Sebastian?!"

The demon looked at him silently, as Ciel chuckled darkly, "Oohhh yes, I recall that night. Do you ever think I can forgive you for what you've done to me?! You pathetic, vile beast… claiming you had no part in my choices. Every deal I've made was to escape you and your treachery! You only haunt me because you can't admit defeat."

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, before he closed his eyes, tapped his chin, softly exhaled and said, "Whenever you tell it, it sounds almost like a fairy tale. A princess is kept in a high tower by a beast, and is forced to live in servitude, until one day, the princess escapes by getting her prince to slay the monster. They live happily ever after, blaming all their misfortune on the beast."

A tiny, bemused smile danced upon the corner of his mouth, and he opened his eyes once more, "However, this story is quite different, isn't it? In the true story, the princess was just a spoilt brat who forged a deal with a devil to escape the beast, and threw herself from the tower during the fight, and wounded, she's swept up by the devil to become his willing slave…"

Ciel stepped back cautiously, as Sebastian stepped forward, "but the beast survives, and six years later, he finds the princess has become a harlot, and blames all her misfortune upon the beast."

"Harlot!?" the boy shouted, his blood boiling from the insult.

"What else do you call a person who sells themselves? Servitude or sex, you sold your body to Grell to escape me, and you sold your soul to me for my services. You are a harlot, Ciel Phantomhive. I dare you to prove me wrong."

"Then that would make us both the same," Ciel retorted fiercely, "You sold yourself to me."

"Yes, and I gave you all of me," Sebastian responded, placing his pale hand against his chest, where the symbol of his contract still lay etched upon his flesh, which Ciel could not take his eyes off of, "To you, and only you, I gave all of my effort, and all of my will. I lived in your house, maintained it, your welfare, and carried out whatever whim you entertained with every iota of my being. I had eyes for only you, and served your word to the letter. Everything I ever did has been for you, and yet, I find that my former master is a cheat in his own right."

"A cheat?" Ciel repeated, his eyes shining with poison malice, "Explain your reasoning!"

"Need I?" Sebastian said, "You are nothing but empty promises and ungratefulness. I gave you my complete faithfulness and loyalty. I honored you, and upheld your way. I challenged man, beast, Death God, Demons, and Angels in your name. I asked little of you, and you defied every request I made with all the stubbornness Man can provide. I sacrificed pieces of me and endured torture on your behalf, and still you call me treacherous?"

Ciel felt a tiny pang of guilt within him, brought on by those cold crimson eyes that continued to jab sharp blades of truth into his heart. However, as his chest began to ache, and he pressed a hand against it, the raised line of flesh was brought to his attention, and he felt the tears well up in his eyes with painful memories of the wound that had been inflicted long ago.

Slowly, his shaking fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons, and he looked up at the demon with a slight smile, born from the chaos within his head, "You call yourself loyal? Look at me!"

He pulled open the nightshirt, exposing his bare chest to the demon. The beautiful porcelain flesh, once so clean and pure, was defiled with many raised scars; lines born from the head of a scalpel, the blade of twin shears, and namely, a silver letter opener. The tears streamed from his eyes as he demanded, "Look at what has become of me! Six years of this Hell has carved itself upon my skin. Scars don't lie, Sebastian! Empty promises? I have served my sentence for six long years, enduring the world you condemned me to! I trusted you! Don't you understand?!"

Sebastian's eyes seemed to widen slightly, as Ciel recoiled, covering his chest, shoulders quivering as his spine bent and he looked down at the floor, "I asked you for death, Sebastian! I believed I would finally be able to rest. I was content with my fate to oblivion. I left my mark on this world, finished what I had set out to do… and I was prepared to die; dignity intact. Honoring my family's memory and my own satisfaction. I was even content to die by your hand, Sebastian! I was fine with the thought that my faithful butler would be my end, and I was prepared to breathe my last. Instead, you condemn me to this! This mockery of my life! This horrible, revolting, dismal existence!"

"You asked for death, and I honored it," Sebastian said, his voice dark as the boy looked at him with cruel cynicism, "Death is the surrender of control. When you die, you submit your fate to the Death Gods, and they decide where you go. When you made the pact with me, you placed me in the Death God's place, and I decided what became of you when you died. When you asked for death, I granted your wish. It's your own failing of being naive of these circumstances, not mine."

Years of suppressed pain exploded forth from the emptiness within Ciel's shell; his shields giving away to the destructive force that was his pain and wrath. He screamed at the demon, as if Hell itself possessed his throat, and was pouring forth magma from his lips; each word corrosive and burning with the loathing he held deep inside for the man standing before him. The pain of betrayal soaked into every syllable, and the more he spoke, the more freely his tears ran, and though he knew he looked like such a disgrace, he didn't care. It only served to fuel his anger and despair further, as he continued his speech with unrelenting rage.

"I worked myself to exhaustion, and received nothing! Everything that I had is gone, Sebastian. GONE! You stole it all from me and spouted it back in my face; warped my very existence into this nightmare. You stole my home, my title, my family name, my honor… you tried to charm Elizabeth in front of me, and you stole my father's face!"

"What's dead is dead," Sebastian responded flatly, "What did it matter that I recycled a face long forgotten by the world?"

Ciel felt like screaming, as his eyes widened in a fury, his knuckles became white, that the bones threatened to break the skin should they be forced to clench any further, "You had no respect for me! You knew what harm it would do! You purposely wore that visage to torment me and drive me to madness! Everything you've done is to push me to insanity!"

"Is that what you believe?" Sebastian said, his voice calm, though it held a frigid coldness to it that combated Ciel's fiery anger, "Perhaps you're correct. Perhaps all of this has been to satisfy my desire to see your face as it's twisted with nothing but the purest despair… I must admit, the deepest, darkest part of me longs to see that beautiful set of expressions."

Ciel backed away as Sebastian advanced, and ended up with his back against the wall, the heavy black cloth of the stage curtain crumbling against his back as it was pinned behind him. The boy's azure gaze soon beheld the close garnet leer of the demon's eyes, as Sebastian enclosed the distance between them, one arm striking out against the wall next to Ciel's head as if to bar him in place.

Those lips, though they did not curve, whispered in a lingering, cruel tone, "That would be something to see. Those twin sapphires alight with Hell's fire, how I wanted to see your face out of it's element; to witness that guard of yours be penetrated and you left utterly helpless… crying out my name in desperation. It was awfully tempting, seeing as how frail and fragile you were back then… and still are."

Ciel glared at him fiercely, appalled and disgusted, and though he wanted to push against him to escape the body that held him pressed against the wall so snug, he failed to give into the urge, and instead stared into those wicked crimson orbs, and growled, "Instead, you were content to work me to death?"

"Ah, that," Sebastian slightly tilted his head to the side, "That was merely a series of experiments on my part, to satisfy a few of my curiosities. I had every intention of devouring you that evening, with the flavor of your soul so unbearably delicious and heavy in the air. However, I paused to consider something that was bothering me at the time; a tiny curiosity that, if I were to devour you then, would be ultimately left unanswered. So, I changed your image and I let you live."

"What curiosities?" Ciel asked, poison staining his tone and changing it to a fierce hiss, "To indulge in your sick fantasies of me?"

"No," Sebastian said simply, "rather, I wanted to entertain the notion that you were grateful enough to me that you would reciprocate my efforts with equal devotion. I simply wanted you to honor and keep me the same way as I did to you."

The boy felt as if his heart had been gripped tightly by some invisible fist, which was slowly constricting around it, as the demon continued, "I wondered to myself, if my young master was knowledgeable about the lengths I had gone to to ensure his satisfaction, would he be willing to put as much effort into giving me my own satisfaction? However, I found that I was severely disappointed. All I asked of you were to perform tasks and duteously carry them out to the best of your ability, but instead you defied me at every turn, claiming how I had forced you into the depths of Hell, when all I required was basic attendance and housekeeping. Your incorrigible stubbornness and damned pride continued to challenge me, and the more you contended with me, the more I felt within the need to give into my darker intentions and watch you suffer. However, I forgave your behavior, allowing you to continue with your 'effort', thinking that perhaps you'd see the error in your ways and correct yourself, but you continued your utter defiance, and refused to submit to me or accept me as something worth more than a tool. Finally, I decided that I would have to engrave my worth into you."

His crimson eyes grew darker and darker, and Ciel could feel the heavy menace press down on him, radiating from the spawn of the abyss that loomed before him. These truths battered against Ciel's mind, and as he absorbed them, his eyes narrowed defensively, denying them all to be nothing but poisonous lies, "You gave into your demonic nature the moment when you decided to force me into servitude in my own house!"

"I chose the lodgings that you were best comfortable in," Sebastian retorted, "rooms you wandered often that would be easy for you to adjust to. You wanted death, I gave you an afterlife. You imagined me a villain, I became one. You wanted to live a Hell within Grell's clutches, I honored your choice. Everything I've done up to this point has been for you, Ciel Phantomhive."

"Including tying me down to my own bed?!" Ciel screamed, "Nearly raping me to prove your dominion over me?! Do you call that a favor?!"

The demon was silent for a moment, before he looked down at the exposed flesh that peeked out from where Ciel's fists could not cover completely. The wicked array of scars that spread over his fragile skin reawakened memories within the demon's mind. Images of the boy sprawled upon the bed, bloody from his persistent defiance, as those accursed lips said, _"You're not worth your hands, you vile thing." _

Though, as those scarlet irises beheld the a series of minute wounds that bore dark red scabs, they became half hidden by black eyelashes and pale eyelids, as his eyes narrowed and his hand grasped a hold of the boy's wrists, pulling them up to expose his chest completely once more. Despite the boy's sudden shock and resistance, Sebastian examined the remains of Grell's torture sessions with a deep contemplation, and Ciel could swear he felt that hand tighten once more around his wrists as he held them aloft.

"However, when I found that you would rather serve the person who killed your aunt, rather than myself, can you imagine how perplexed I was? To know that you would rather dedicate your efforts to serving under a lowly creature like that Grell Sutcliff over myself is almost painful to consider."

Suddenly, Ciel felt himself forcibly turned around, his chest and his face pressed almost painfully against the cloth covered wall. Though he cried out and twisted violently to dislodge the demon that pressed up against his back, he found it comparable to trying to move a massive column with his spine alone. A hand pressed against his chest, pushing him back solidly against Sebastian's abdomen, the other hand still holding his wrists high above his head.

"How many times did you allow yourself to be pressed into his bed, I wonder?" those whispered poisonous words assaulted Ciel's ears, and caused the boy's eyes to widen in utter shock, a deep flush of embarrassment spreading over his face, "How many times did you allow him to fondle your body, or allowed yourself to be part of his own sick fantasies?"

Cruel, taunting fingers slipped over his wounded flesh, and teased him, causing Ciel to writhe in loathsome resentment, crying out angrily and wriggling desperately to free himself from the unwanted contact, "Don't lie to me, I can see you already are reacting to the smallest stimuli… and your protest is enough of an answer to satisfy me."

"You're wrong!" Ciel roared, "LET ME GO!"

"You're a disgusting creature," Sebastian said, "allowing the monster with your aunt's blood on his hands to wipe that blood all over your bare skin. You should be ashamed… though, not that it matters… you lost all of your pride the moment you agreed to become his slave."

Ciel's eyes stung with pain, his chest ached and his stomach churned violently, though the touch of the demon's cool fingertips against his skin awakened a fiery lust within that he both welcomed and loathed. Though his body begged him to welcome that unearthly possession, his mind roared with so much disgust and resentment that he screamed and writhed in rage, bucking backwards in an attempt to knock the demon off of him.

"You have such a high view of yourself, that you believed you still were a respectable being after all you've done?" Sebastian whispered, "What a joke. So much pride that you couldn't see that all you are is a shameless harlot."

Ciel felt the defenses within himself crack; a deep dark feeling of utter despair pouring forth from the breaks in his mental walls. He knew deep inside how much he had loathed the Death God. His aunt had been a mortal woman who should have kept a firm grasp upon her humanity, but gave into madness by being so weak. She deserved her fate for forging such foolish bonds and acting so sloppy, but he knew how much back then he wanted to get revenge for his aunt, though he had let the monster go free. However, now, as he stood there within the demon's grasp, he saw exactly why he had chosen to serve the demented and shameless Death God.

"At least he's honest with what he is," Ciel spat, "unlike some who would rather trick me into trusting them and then turn around and spit this wretched mockery of my life into my face!"

Sebastian seemed to flinch a little at that statement, and Ciel's eye widened a little as the fingers grasped around his wrists loosened a small fraction. Suddenly, he was turned around again to face the demon once more, those eyes smoldering dangerously.

Ciel, driven mad by the overwhelming emotions within his chaotic mind, continued his defiance, his volume escalating, as the hate poured, searing hot, from his lips, "You said you'd never betray me! You swore to always be by my side, and to never lie to me! You tricked me into believing you were someone who would honor me beyond my death; I considered you---"

Ciel stopped, unable to complete his sentence, for the words that came from his lips pained him so, each was like a blade against his tongue and lips. He felt the tears fall down his cheeks freely, and he shook his head in despair, clenching his hair with his fingers and pressing his palms against his eyes.

"What about my chest, Sebastian?! You tried to kill me! That letter opener you sent at my heart… I curse whatever luck it was that made you miss that night… for it was barely inches from your mark! I wish it did hit me right, then I would never have had to live in this wretched Hell any longer!"

The demon's eyes narrowed slightly, smoldering like coals in a fire, causing a bolt of warning to shoot down Ciel's spine, "Have I ever missed my target before?"

The boy was silent for a moment, his eye looking down a little in frustrated consideration, before he felt soft fingertips soothe against his jawbone. He looked up once more, and Sebastian's face, so beautiful in the orange glow of the flickering candlelight, bore an expression that he had trouble deciphering. Somewhere between concern and slight aloofness, yet confusion also flickered behind those eyes, mixed with something that vaguely resembled sadness. Ciel's eyebrows furrowed, before he recalled his momentarily vanquished wrath, and regained the heat within his face, and the violent pain within his heart. He turned his head, dislodging the unwanted contact, and watched as Sebastian withdrew his hand from the wall, and took a couple steps back.

Looking up at his retreat, Ciel's eye narrowed, as he lifted his chin in defiance and growled, "Why don't you just kill me now, then? You've won, haven't you?"

"I would," Sebastian said, his tone baring a strange cynicism to it that caused Ciel to blink in perplexity, "but there is a complication."

"A complication?" Ciel asked.

"Yes, and quite a large one, in fact," Sebastian sighed, placing one curled pale finger against his lip, "namely, the fact that I had made a grave miscalculation."

He reached once more towards the boy, who recoiled, though he was foiled, as Sebastian grasped his chin and tilted it upwards for his own consideration. He moved in, those crimson eyes focused on Ciel's one azure orb, as if searching for something deep within. As Ciel squirmed, and Sebastian finally sighed and released him, he noticed something strange upon the demon's hand. It was slightly burned, and he could just make out the indentation of a piece of chain and a corner of what was once the Ward.

Ciel was silent, studying the demon as he tapped his chin as he paced back and forth in thought. Unable to withstand being in the wretched being's company any longer, the boy looked off into the darkness of the derelict theater, plotting his own escape route through the decrepit audience seats, which were barely visible under the heavy veil of shadows.

Sebastian sighed, before he turned and looked once more at the boy, who's attention finally returned to him, "I had my suspicions, but now that I'm no longer blind to it, I see now that they were correct. What a pity."

Ciel felt utter confusion cloud his mind like a miasma, though he had a small, tiny inkling that he knew what the demon spoke of. However, to pinpoint the exact answer, he dared to ask, "What is this stupidity you're spouting?"

"It seems that Grell has once again ruined my meal," Sebastian said, dropping his hand to his side, and eyes glinting in the firelight with a menacing severity, "There's nothing left. Nothing of substance nor nutritional value, let alone flavor. Only salt."

"What are you talking about?!" Ciel shouted angrily, frustrated at the demon's continual to irritating him with these guessing games.

"I'm speaking of your soul," Sebastian said darkly, "Or rather, the lack thereof."

Ciel was struck silent once more, gaze frantically studying the demon's face for the gist of the joke, though he found that stoic visage to not bear a single shred of humor. The frigid grasp of Cold gripped his spine and doused him with freezing water full of disbelief; causing him to shiver uncontrollably with bleak confusion. He looked down at the floor, into the space of nothingness between the wooden floorboards and his eyes.

"My soul?" Ciel repeated. Once, long before, he had doubted the existence of souls; though he had willingly, without hesitation, bargained with the demon providing his and other souls as the payment for his services. However, he had believed their existence after that day in the midst of the great fires that engulfed London. Sebastian had been so dedicated to the cultivation of his soul, jeering at his fallen body within Buckingham palace that his soul was 'perfect' after all the turmoil he had gone through and the choices he made. He had, however, taken that jest to heart, believing that his existence had finally reached it's superior potential; satisfactory enough for the demon's palate to be dubbed 'perfect'. Now, as he stared into the darkness, he wondered desperately just what those words meant. _How could he have lost his soul?_

"Broken into dust," Sebastian answered, causing Ciel's head to shoot upwards and look back up at him, "Though, I must credit Grell… he was able to do what I was unable to."

Ciel was quiet for a moment, before he spat, "You're wrong. You broke me."

Sebastian paused, as Ciel finally shouted, "YOU BROKE ME!"

He could feel the emptiness within bear new meaning; the loss of his own soul was replaced by his deep wrath and loathing for the demon standing before him. The overwhelming emotions of self pity and want for his own escape, brought on by the torture of memories and trauma. His fragile existence was pummeled over and over by the daily assault from every plane; fear, paranoia, pain, memory, shame, disrespect, loathing, despair, and betrayal. All these poisons had delivered deadly blows upon him, and rendered him filled with nothing but these emotions, standing upon the ruins that were the remnants his obliterated soul.

He covered his mouth with his hands as he realized this painful truth, and only looked up as the demon finally said, "With this inconvenience, I will have to find some other payment of yours worthy of my services."

Ciel's mind broke completely, and he doubled over. The boy then unleashed a loud laugh; drenched with wicked malice, clutching his aching chest as he shouted, "Good luck then! I have nothing to give you! I own nothing! I have nothing that you could possibly take from me!"

He continued his cruel, hearty laugh. His voice echoed off the amphitheater's walls, filling the room with a chorus of ghostly laughter, as he declared viciously, "I win, Sebastian! You served me for nothing! I got everything I could possibly want from you, and now you have to return to whatever Hell you spawned from empty handed, all because you made a stupid mistake and let me live!"

Despite this, those pale lips curved into a slight smile, and Ciel instantly fell silent, the remnants of his laughter continuing for a brief moment afterwards, almost like a mockery of the one they were born from. The boy stared at the knowing demon, knowing well that held one last card up his sleeve.

"Tell me," Sebastian tilted his head to the side, touching one finger against the corner of his mouth, "have you ever heard of the story Faust?"

Ciel looked at him in bewilderment, before the demon continued, "I figured you hadn't had the time. Allow me to surmise; it is about a man, not unlike you, who makes a deal with a demon."

Sebastian walked over to the lone chair, and sat down upon it, setting his hands upon his lap, "There is a specific piece that reminds me of this situation that we are in. Allow me to quote; 'I'll pledge myself to be thy servant _here_, still at thy back alert and prompt to be; But when together _yonder _we appear, Then shalt thou do the same for me.'"

Ciel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, before Sebastian smiled softly, "I had intended those dolls to have sparked some curiosity in you to research their origin. However, I had not expected the child to hide their existence from you. I had to exhaust some energy to force my voice through that doll's lips."

"Then it was you that night," Ciel stated.

"Partially," Sebastian confirmed, "I merely influenced the tool, though it did leave it's mark on me, when I had to ensure our meeting tonight."

Ciel's eye drifted down to glance at the reddened hand, though he felt no sympathy for the devil that taunted him with a knowledge that caused Ciel's mind to panic with worry.

"How long did you know where I was?" Ciel said, his voice barely a whisper from the exhaustion within his larynx.

"Four years," Sebastian replied, "It took me a while to gather my strength back. I have not had a soul to sustain me in quite some time, so it takes me longer than it did before to heal and restore myself to proper order. The Death God's scythe is a weapon quite unmatched."

"However," the demon smile returned, "You weren't difficult to find. Grell Sutcliff is hardly the creative sort. Mademoiselle Rouge indeed."

Ciel flushed in embarrassment, cursing the fact that his dismissed paranoia had been correct from the beginning, "Why did you not attack me then? Why now?"

"That was the life you had chosen, and I honored your choice," Sebastian said simply, "as well, I had my attention focused elsewhere."

Before Ciel could inquire further on the subject, the demon interjected, "I have had to build a rather complicated trap for you, I might mention. I had suspected that your soul would have broken. After I watched you chase down those victims, and take baths of blood, I knew that your mind would have possibly fallen so far into darkness that I doubted you'd even recall a moment of sophistication. So, I decided I'd make a failsafe for myself… in case of such an occasion should arise."

"What are you talking about?" Ciel whispered, shivering uncontrollably as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Sebastian chuckled softly, enjoying the look of perplexity lain upon the boy's face, "There is a particular thing that comes to mind that you said earlier; about how you have nothing?"

Ciel narrowed his eye, as he repeated his declaration in his head over again, and failed to see the amusing piece of his sentence. He only felt more confused, and he shouted out in irritation, "I do have nothing. Don't you understand that, beast?!"

"Nothing?" Sebastian's bemused smile failed to fade, and he only looked more dangerous as he sat expectantly, one of his fingers tapping against his knuckles in wait for the obvious answer to arise within the boy's mind, "I wouldn't say that…"

Suddenly, Ciel heard a loud creak issue forth from the darkness, and looked around to see a small pale hand and a sapphire eye peek out from behind a tattered curtain. His eyes widened in realization, as the little maiden stepped out from her hiding place, and looked up at him, hands pressed against her chest in insecurity, as she inched towards him timidly.

"Ciel," She whimpered, as she staggered over to him, her poor foot still wounded, though she had bandaged it lightly with a scrap of her bed dress. He recoiled a little at her outstretched hand, but she grasped a hold of him, looking up at her butler with saddened eyes, "It hurts…"

"I was a tad curious," Sebastian said, drawing Ciel's attention once more towards him, "but now, I can see the resemblances."

Ciel narrowed his eye defensively, "What do you mean?"

"Her hair… it looks like the late Madam Red, does it not? How it frames her face?" Ciel looked down at the little girl who buried her face into his hip, shivering as if from the cold, "And the way you prepare her hair, so much like the late Lady Rachel Phantomhive, if I'm not mistaken. I was also intrigued that her behavior is much reminiscent of Lady Elizabeth."

"Grell chose the cut, not I," Ciel growled angrily, "and I only know that style. All of it is mere coincidence!"

"Is it?" Sebastian inquired, "You took so much interest in her upbringing, but I was curious about one thing. You modeled her after those you miss the most, yet I wondered, why did you decide to teach her the violin?"

Ciel hesitated, and Sebastian smiled softly, knowing that his silence was enough of an answer for him. He stood up, adjusting his suit so that it lay flat and flawless, and he continued, "I suppose it does not matter why. Though, I must thank you for giving me something that was useful. However, the child was naïve of her usefulness. She merely believed it fantasy, and did not know of the harm she would cause."

"I gave you nothing," Ciel spat, turning to face him completely, though the little girl remained fastened to his side, grasping his body tightly as if she would float away should she let go, "I despise you for all of this agony I've been going through, and what's more, involving her to do your dirty work instead of yourself, how cowardly. It's like a bad joke. A demon so afraid of challenging me head on that you would use a child's plaything and manipulate a little girl? You make me laugh."

Sebastian's amusement seemed only to intensify, as he advanced a few more steps towards the pair, "You should speak, making deals with reapers with property that doesn't rightfully belong to you. You are mine, should I remind you. I was promised you first, and you belong to me. However, you saw it fit to destroy your side of the bargain, and so now, I'm forced to find another sort of payment."

"Then kill me then!" Ciel challenged, "It's what I deserve, isn't it?"

Sebastian scoffed, "Hardly. Killing you would just be a waste of flesh and energy. Besides, I consider your punishment fitting enough."

"And just what is that?" the boy stood his ground, his gaze radiating defiance, challenging the demon that now stood mere inches from him.

"Do you know how to truly break a man who has nothing?" Sebastian mused, his smile growing wickedly, "You give him something, allow him to grow attached to it, and then, you take it away."

Ciel's eye widened in realization, as he noticed Sebastian's crimson eyes flit downwards for a brief moment. His smile grew all the more wicked and knowing, as Ciel's heated blood instantly froze, leaving him rigid with a sudden panic.

Sebastian nodded, "The loveliest flower is born with blood as the soil, rich melancholy as the sweetest rain, and grand expectation as her bone meal. However, her soul is a piddling thing compared to what yours once was, but compared to the hollow shell that you've become, I think she'll do nicely as a substitute for your payment."

Suddenly, Ciel felt overcome by a sense of terror, realizing how many things were happening at once. As Sebastian knelt down, offering his hand towards the little maiden that stood gripping his side, Ciel violently twisted his body around, shielding her with himself, looking over his shoulder at the demon who's bemused expression continued to taunt his fury.

"You are not taking her!" Ciel growled menacingly, his azure glare white hot and fierce, as if it could cut whatever it fell upon. Sebastian was unfazed by the threat, as it only served to cause his smile to persist.

The little girl remained silent, though she held him tightly, refusing to let go. Ciel held onto her head with his arms, as if forming a fortress of his own flesh to protect her, clamping his own eye shut in a frantic need to rearrange his thoughts in the sudden flurry of chaos that now roved inside his head. Wave after wave of denial, coupled with the scramble for a solution to his dilemma, Ciel tried his hardest to figure out a way out of Sebastian's trap, though, as he opened his eye, he saw a pale hand grasp a hold of the little girl's arm, and felt the resistance upon his bed shirt give way, as the little girl slipped out of his hold.

"Leave her alone!" Ciel turned around quickly, to see Sebastian holding the little girl bridal style in his arms, her head lolled back as she lay unconscious. Fear gripped Ciel's shoulders and shook him wildly, as he reached out towards them, shouting, "She has nothing to do with us! Take me and leave her!"

"Why should I?" Sebastian inquired coldly, garnet eyes piercing, "You have nothing to offer me. In fact, I wonder what exactly keeps you here. If this existence is a living Hell for you, what keeps you alive?"

"YOU!" Ciel shouted suddenly, the pain of despair choking his voice so that it came out crackling, like a roar of fire, "Your god damn order!"

Sebastian paused unexpectedly, intrigued by Ciel's confession, as the pale boy stood rigid upon the stage, shaking uncontrollably with tears pouring from that pained sapphire, "Everyday I think of my own ending, your pins jab at every piece of me, forcing me into submission, into living out every painful day. How I hate you for this constant loop of pain and nightmares… I beg for you to be my salvation, but I wake up, and I find that all of it to be illusion! In every shadow, I search for you, expecting you to be looking at me, waiting to offer me an escape from the Hell that I have chosen, but you are never there. It's always a trick of the light, or of the eyes. I long for you to save me… and I despise you for never being there for me when I need you most!"

Silence enveloped the theater, as the last of Ciel's speech echoed into oblivion.

Breathless, his agonizing heart pounding as he stared at the demon that stood watching him, eyes flickering in the amber light that surrounded them, as if the fires of Hell were contained within his very body. Ciel felt within him the urge to just fall on the floor and scream; tear apart every iota of his sanity and lay there in his own shame of his confession. What's more, he felt helpless, and he loathed the feeling. He knew that whatever he would attempt, be it a rescue of the child, or to inflict damage for his own vengeance, Sebastian would fail him. He shook his head angrily, frustrated beyond measure, aggrieved and desperate.

Though his lashes were heavy with salt strewn tears, Ciel maintained his wordless eye contact with the beast; his teeth clenched as he breathed heavily, his chest heaving with every bitter inhale and exhale. Sebastian was silent, regarding the wretch that stood before him with cold eyes, still holding within his grasp the little scarlet doll.

"Please," Ciel whispered, "don't leave me here…"

Finally, Sebastian's lips parted, and the five words that followed delivered the final blow to Ciel's ruined existence with a razor sharp blade, "_You brought this upon yourself_."

Sebastian turned away from Ciel, and walked away into the darkness of the stage beyond the ruined curtains. Ciel stood shaking, eye wide in disbelief, frozen as if the soles of his feet were rooted to the floorboards. He brought a quivering hand up to his mouth, realizing ultimately what the demon's departure meant.

He was now completely alone; forsaken and broken.

His family was stolen from him; his mother and father, abandoning their only child to the cruel world full of corruption and deceit, and the clutches of evil men. Men that would sacrifice their species' lambs for the sake of dark superstition and for want of evil blessings. Those weeks encaged, waiting to be slaughtered in a realm of uncertainty. Then, as the silver blade came down upon his stomach, he begged, reaching out to every corner of existence, for a savior to take him away from those wretched men; to avenge him. In the moment where he was completely alone, suspended in a place between Death and Life, Ciel heard a voice.

A beautiful, dulcet voice that reached out to him… and offered him a choice.

And with that choice, came the consequences…

However, Ciel regarded one truth especially; one that meant something both comforting and threatening to him. One truth that had haunted him, tore at him, and kept him sane, waiting for the moment when the truth would prove to not be a lie. That one truth, was that he would never be alone. Sebastian would follow him wherever he may go, be him welcome or not.

Now, as the sound of Sebastian's footsteps against the floorboards faded beyond the decrepit draperies, Ciel felt the loneliness engulf him like black water, suffocating him. He had lost his mother, his father, his aunt, his servants, and now, two more would abandon him.

_Never!_

Ciel's feet flew from where they were rooted, tearing from the lit stage into the darkness of the realm beyond the scenery. Through the maze of props and instrument cases, Ciel sprinted, his heart pounding, threatening to burst from his chest. He cried out Sebastian's name, and only heard his own echo respond in the oblivion that surrounded him. The further he traversed into the unknown reaches of the theater, the blacker it became.

_I don't want to be alone._

He tripped over a shadow, and crashed down onto the hard ground. Ignoring the intense pain that radiated from his knees and ankle, he staggered back to his feet, and continued running around in the dark, navigating blindly and calling out the demon's name over and over, hoping, praying, that the denizen of darkness would suddenly appear from some lingering shadow.

_Don't leave me here!_

As he turned a corner, he encountered another heavy curtain, which tangled itself around him, providing a formidable obstacle, which served to only upset him. Ciel tore it away in wrathful frustration with a angered cry, and it fell away, exposing a familiar large open space.

Thinking that he had gone in a large circle and had wound up upon the main stage once more, he shook his head in denial, gripping his hair in pained frustration. However, as he stood there, he noticed that the candelabra had all disappeared, and the world beyond the stage had become pitch black, as if oblivion itself loomed there, greedily devouring all light that dared venture further than the floor. As he slowly turned towards the soft white light that radiated from his left, a familiar scene greeted his sight, forcing his eye to widen in terror. A large black iron gate, framed by the derelict curtains and sheer drapes, lay open, revealing a path leading towards a painfully familiar structure, surrounded by many others of it's like.

A mausoleum.

The plutonic realm that lay beyond the gate; a vast village of tombs, beckoned towards him, and his eye immediately fell upon a tall figure, clad in midnight black, carrying scarlet cargo within his arms. Ciel cried out his name, and bolted towards the ethereal world with reckless abandon. However, before he could put one foot upon the pathway, the black gate crashed closed, cutting off his pursuit and encaging the realm indefinitely. Ciel frantically pulled at the bars, but to no avail; they refused to budge, and he roared angrily, his throat burning and his blood pounding in his ears.

"SEBASTIAN!" He screamed.

The figure paused, and turned around, glancing back the boy who reached out through the bars towards him, fingers outstretched, azure eye begging for him. The intrigued expression upon his face alighted, as Ciel cried out, "Please! Don't leave me here! What will become of me?!"

Sebastian looked at him for a long moment, before his eyes darkened, and he said, "You? You will live a long, painful life in the Hell you have chosen."

Ciel's mouth fell agape, his outstretched hand frozen in place as the condemning words embraced his ears. Sebastian then turned away once more, and he watched his back as he walked towards the mausoleum that loomed before him. Ciel then noticed movement at Sebastian's arm, and saw that the mass of fine scarlet curls shifted, and a single blue eye peeked out from the demon's arm at him, half lidded, and he heard a soft whisper, "Ciel…"

He cried out again, frantically pulling at the bars, putting all of his will into his hands and arms, adrenaline pumping fiercely through his veins as he tugged. His knuckles were white and cracking from the strain, and his palms became slick, as the bars' rough iron rubbed away at the tender flesh. Ciel ignored the pain, and continued his labor, crying out Sebastian's name again desperately, wanting him to turn around.

The demon finally reached the mausoleum door, and opened it, revealing the black maw that lay within. Ciel watched with terrified eyes, as the stone table loomed in view beyond the doorway, barely visible in the darkness. Sebastian rounded the table, and laid down the tiny girl upon the white marble.

Ciel tried frantically to get his attention, crying out desperately, and he sunk to his knees in frustrated helpless despair, watching as the demon began placing her arms and legs in a position that Ciel recalled freshly from that day six years ago.

_Like a butterfly pinned to a cork board_.

He suddenly saw the little girl slowly look back at him, her empty sapphire eyes digging deep into his own; much sharper than any blade. She whispered his name once more, as Sebastian finally leaned down, his lips parted…

"SEBASTIAN! I ORDER YOU TO STOP!"

There was a flash of amethyst light, and Ciel's head immediately felt like a brick had been cracked against his skull. His vision became instantly blurry, and his body felt heavy. He saw as Sebastian paused, and lifted his head, his eyes a deep purple that shimmered in the darkness that enveloped him.

Suddenly, he heard something overhead make a loud crack, and Ciel looked up just in time to see a massive torrent of heavy cloth and metal bars come crashing down on top of him. He threw himself away from the gate, and he fell back onto the stage, falling mere inches from the ruins that were the suspended curtains.

Ciel looked up in breathless alarm, and saw to his mortified shock, that the world beyond had disappeared completely, as if it never existed, crushed beneath the debris that lay sprawled before him. In it's place was the endless clutter of the back stage, and all around him were the remains of a theater lost to disrepair and neglect.

Speechless, and feeling as if his very heart had been ripped clean from his chest, Ciel threw his head back and cried out in agony, as he felt, for the first time in six years, completely and utterly alone.

-----------------

Oh dear god, we've finally gotten to 29!

One word: midterms.

The killers of fun-times and the harbingers of headaches and stress! But luckily for me, I'm pretty sure I passed each one with flying colors, so I'm not worried now.

This chapter was pretty intense!!! AND LONG!! Holy… I didn't figure that I'd get that carried away, but I wanted this chapter to be perfect. I had to re-read everything, and make sure that this was what I wanted to do. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER, BTW!!! THERE IS MORE! MORE I SAY! I know it's long, but we're reaching our conclusion very fast!!! Will this end well, or will this end in mortifying disaster?! You shall see!!

Can you believe it that this chapter was actually going to be LONGER?!! Yeah, there was a lot of back and forth that was going to happen between Sebaschan and Ciel, but I cut a lot of it down. You can tell there's a lot of sour grapes, no? Oh, how hard this chapter was to write! Especially with the stupid midterms in my way…

By the way; my doujinshi are currently being worked on; I have about ten pages completed in sketch, and they are going to be inked in and scanned before I post them on my website. Those interested, keep posted. ^^

Oh, so Halloween was splendiferous!!! We had so much fun, and we all acted as our characters all night, so it was pretty funny (or at least TRIED). Ciel kept making Sebastian carry his candy basket while we were trick or treating, and at one point, made him carry him because his feet hurt! It was really cute though. Plus, we all got hot chocolate and devils food cake in the shape of a cat ~! Pure LOVE! Saw Zombieland (in costume!), which Ciel and I (as Grell) continued to be chitchatty though the entire thing… (we got the entire theater pretty much to ourselves, so nobody got mad, except for Sebaschan, who thought it fit to keep pummeling me with popcorn. Costumes turned out awesome, though Lau's kept having technical issues, with the sleeves slowly opening at the seams because they weren't stitched very well. Anyway, in short, had a GREAT time.

Major song contributions for this chapter were: Room of Angel from Silent Hill 4, 21 Guns by Green Day, I Don't Ask You What You Do for a Living by My Chemical Romance, Beast and the Harlot by Avenged Sevenfold, Snow White Queen by Evanescence, and She is my Sin by Nightwish.

Anyway, I really hope to produce the next chapter in a much more timely manner, and we'll be getting to the bottom of this tangled mess very shortly, so stick with me just a little while longer!!!

Lots of love, and thank you for your awesome reads, reviews, and favorites~!


	30. Chapter 30: Seul

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you may be wondering; _Seul _is _Alone_ in French.

-----------------

**-30-**

**Seul**

Within the darkness of the silent amphitheater, a lone phantom sat upon the floorboards of the stage, hanging his head in despair. His eyes stung from the salt left over from his tears, long dried. For what seemed like hours, Ciel stared at the debris of the heavy curtains, playing the scene within his head over and over again.

The chaos that had claimed his mind was still; dead as a sea after a storm. His entire body ached, as if every limb were weighed down by stones, and his eye slowly opened and closed, as empty cornea stared through matted bangs at the memory of the ghostly realm that lay beneath the fallen draperies. He had attempted in vain to tear at the fabrics, thinking he'd unveil a doorway to the mausoleum path, but he grew exhausted, and he collapsed upon them, still hearing Sebastian's words within his ears: _'You've brought this upon yourself.'_

Sitting there in the oblivion that surrounded him, he remained pensive. Left alone with only his memories, he recalled the eighteen years that composed his life; and though they ranged from blissful to mortifying, he felt nothing but the emptiness that had finally devoured him whole.

He remembered the days within his parents' arms, laughing happily in their company, intoxicated by the age of innocence where his mind remained pure and untainted by the corrupted world. He could still feel the heat of that horrific reality he had been thrust into the moment he opened that fated door and saw his parents' remains within a realm engorged by fire. He remembered the days within the dark and dank, confined by bars and hidden from the world; untouchable by friends and surrounded by villains. He remembered the moment that door was opened, and he was dragged out into the light, surrounded by darkness and a diabolic masquerade. He recalled the sight of that silver blade, as it flashed in the firelight, winking menacingly at him as he was lifted up into the air, and brought down onto a table, held down by strange, unmerciful hands. He could practically hear that man's voice as it echoed throughout the chambers, and the cheers and jeering of the many nightmarish faces that loomed within the blanket of oblivion, watching with empty eye sockets within the masks as their captive begged for salvation, and screamed when hot metal pressed against his flesh, branding a despicable symbol forever into his side.

Then, his chest felt white hot, and every part of him cried out, as that hungry blade dove down into his flesh, and found a home within his body. How his mind, body, and soul screamed; and he could hear nothing else but his own voice ringing, echoing, flooding the entire world with Man's most primitive way of conveying '_Help Me'_.

And he answered.

Everything had gone dark and he recalled that feeling of weightlessness that had claimed him in the place between Life and Death. He remembered seeing the white light softly radiating off his skin, which only grew, devouring the darkness around him, revealing a world coated in ash feathers. This grey realm embraced him, and he remembered his vision falling upon a single black silhouette standing before the oblivion, perched upon a gnarled branch rising from the ground. Glistening feathers and obsidian eyes shining as it regarded the young boy before him, the solitary raven served as an avatar for the voice that followed, filling Ciel's ears with the words; "_You have summoned me…"_

There had been no hesitation in his heart that day; the pain of loneliness, the ache of betrayal, and the want for vengeance fueled the fires within him to make the pact with the figure looming in the darkness beyond the light, regardless the price. He would forsake Heaven's gates and any future ahead for the chance to watch those people writhe in the same despair as he had. He would make those people suffer for what they had done to him, and all their like would never again get the opportunity to torment him as they did that day. He would drag them one by one into the Hell of which they had thrust him, even if it cost him his soul. There was a single thread of hope left dangling above him, and as he parted his lips and issued his first command, he could feel his spirit burst up from the sea of lost souls and latch onto that thread tightly, prepared for whatever lay ahead.

That day, as he stood surrounded by the corpses of those who had trespassed against him, he beheld the one who would forevermore be by his side; a man composed of the purest elements of both darkness and light, with eyes the color of fresh blood. Be it either a guise or his true flesh, Ciel didn't care. As the demon took his first bow to his new master, the young boy felt within a subtle, minute feeling that was sparked the moment he realized, '_I will never be alone again._'

As Ciel reminisced, a faint, aching feeling claimed his abdomen. He hugged himself and doubled over, slowly rocking back and forth to subdue the knife that had buried itself in his stomach. Tears welled up in his eye, and he felt them fall once again, as flashes of memories flooded his mind from all corners of his history, interwoven without a particular chronological order. Sitting on his father's lap as a small child as he read to him, Sebastian serving him pear torte and red tea as he looked over Phantom company papers, playing with Elizabeth upon the floor in front of the fireplace, his mother's smile as the wind ruffled her wheat colored hair about like banners, Dahlia playing her violin as he cleaned up the foyer, Sebastian kneeling before him as he held his hand, shifting his fingers just so to reveal the resurrected family ring fitted snuggly about his thumb…

He moaned loudly, his voice reverberating off the walls of the theater in loud echoes, returning to him and causing his body to shake with grief. Everything was gone, becoming nothing but untouchable memories. Overwhelmed by the despair that ultimately claimed him, he cried out over and over, filling the derelict theater with an opera of woe. For every pin that now buried itself in his heart, a cry bubbled up from his throat.

He stood up on his feet, and shouted into the darkness around him, as if every audience chair housed a demon that watched him with cold crimson eyes, "I WANTED YOU TO SAVE ME!"

Ciel looked over his shoulder at the debris once more, and he bit his lip, before he whispered shakily, "Are you happy now? You broke me, mind, body and soul. So, Sebastian… you've got what you wanted, didn't you? Ciel Phantomhive is no more… and only a hollow shell remains of me. Congratulations, you've honored your breed."

Turning around once more to face the auditorium, he looked up at the ceiling, and saw a large break in the roof, exposing the starry sky, absent of any moon.

_I swear by the moon._

"… Damn you," he cried out, "and curse your god damn pact!"

He hung his head in defeat, and felt no more. Even the stinging in his raw eye went ignored, as he let his hands fall to his sides and he looked off into the darkness of the floorboards below. Wishing to be in the that wretched place no longer, he walked away from the remnants of the ethereal doorway, and down the stairs towards the decaying doorway.

He took no care nor caution at his trek; he obtained splinters in his palm from stumbling against the broken door frame, and cut himself on a piece of glass from one of the tables. Too lost within to care, Ciel eventually emerged from the decrepit building, and walked the barren boulevard lined with the condemned stores and houses.

He wandered absently, without any particular direction or destination. Too lost in the memories that continued to flood his mind to care; the feeling of soft fur beneath his fingertips as he scratched his childhood dog along the scruff of it's neck, the scent of gardenia perfume that his mother always wore, the touch of his father's hand upon his head, his Aunt Angela's laugh, the sound of platters crashing in the dining room as Maylene stumbled, the overpowering smell of pesticides wafting in from the garden that Finnian ruined, the heat of the blowtorch radiating from Bard's hand…

Sweet memories continued to wash against his shattered mind, praying to revive some piece of their owner, only to spill as new tears down his face. All the people who had come and gone through his lifetime had been snatched away viciously from him, one after another. It had been the memory of one particular person that had carried him this far; though through his six years of Hell, he had denied all of that longing for want of revenge and loathing. Though he despised the wretched black memories of those fateful days within the twice resurrected Phantomhive mansion, the faded visions of the faithful butler continued to grant him a minute hope, that somewhere, his memory would manifest and come to his rescue once more; save him from the twisted Hell that he had been transported to. This denial of the demon's true nature allowed him the ability to persist every day, and find the strength to continue on; though he had to give that hope a guise so strong that he fooled even himself. His loathing for the demon's treachery and cruelty had overshadowed that flickering star, and conned him into believing that he was living everyday in spite of Sebastian. It was a game he wasn't playing with the demon, so much as he was playing with his own pride.

Dahlia's instruction for the violin… Ciel recalled exactly why he had insisted on pushing her into the art so suddenly. Though he had fooled himself into believing that the child wanted to learn for the sake of the sound the violinist produced, he remembered the moment he heard that sweet melody, and immediately froze, looking around for the source, that fresh hope flickering brighter within his chest.

The origin was humbler than the demon; a simple artist with a cap upon the floor for pennies, but Ciel stood captivated, closing his eyes and imagining that the one seated there was not the beggar, but Sebastian, playing the soothing sonata to calm him. When he felt a small tugging at his hand, he remembered opening his eyes and seeing the reality before him, and the small flicker fade once more. He had looked down at the tiny mistress who grasped his fingers, her crystal blue eyes shining with curiosity at his reaction, as she said in a tiny voice; "Ciel like the pretty sound?"

"Yes," he recalled whispering.

As they abandoned the musician, Ciel leaving a new coin in the cap, he heard the little girl say, "I want make pretty sounds so Ciel likes me too."

How could he have suspected her of such deceit? Even after all the trauma he had driven her though that night, no better than any villain who had pursued himself, she had still said "I'm sorry." Even worse, she had stumbled towards him and embraced him, seeking refuge with him, despite how wicked he had been to her. Ciel's sight suddenly found a small black stain upon the cobblestones, and his eyes widened, as he remembered the trail that had led him to the arena; Dahlia's blood.

He paused, staring at that memento of her existence. He had been so cruel to the girl, using her, manipulating her, and taking joy in her submission to his leadership. Her need to please her one father figure gave him a taste of what he had once been, and Sebastian had pinpointed something that he had subconsciously done to the child; recreated every lost person in her upbringing. Madam Red's hair, his mother's style, her mannerisms, her enthusiasm… so much like Elizabeth's… and, as Sebastian revealed, her violin…

He had thrown only crumbs into the void that those lost people had once taken up, but he was satisfied. Now deprived of her, it was as if he had lost all of them once again in one fell swoop. He could feel the void within his chest expand, and he raised one hand to press against his heart timidly, as if he feared his flesh would cave in should he apply pressure. He swallowed the throbbing lump in his throat, and followed that trail.

One memory in particular floated to the surface. One night, back when Grell had been in the habit of bringing his victims home instead of chasing them down, Ciel woke up to a tiny body crawling into bed beside him, nestling into his chest and shivering intensely. He remembered hearing the maniacal laughter downstairs, and the sound of the chainsaw suddenly roar, as the little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes, frightened. Though he scoffed at her behavior, he allowed her to remain beside him, acknowledging the terror the child must have suffered. He often forgot the age that she was; her determination to please him had lead to a mature demeanor for someone of her years, and his need for civil companionship had urged him to force her onwards past childhood.

Perhaps he had been a bit unfair to the child; even he had experienced the bliss of innocence and simple childhood pleasures. Though, he did remember the tender times between them; her sitting on his lap in the library chair while he read "Alice in Wonderland" to her the upteenth time, cheating at chess right in front of him, declaring her king stronger than his own, and the times when she would follow him around the house, mimicking his actions as he cleaned the house, despite his protests.

He could feel the sting once again return to his eyes, and the lump rise once more, as he looked up into the pitch black sky and sighed painfully. As he looked up into that oblivion, he saw within his cornea the burnt image of Sebastian hovering over the small girl, eyes trained on him with that majestic purple tinge. The final scene before the curtain fell and ended their fated meeting.

_Why did you break my soul? Why couldn't you have devoured me then, when I was still of interest to you? Why, Sebastian?_

He looked back down from the painful black canvas, and his sight fell upon the familiar location; the dark house looming before him in the Parisian streets; Rouge Manor. He had no reason to return to this place. In fact, he could very well journey to anywhere, or nowhere. The world was his oyster. Deprived of Dahlia, and worthless to the demon's palate, he had no chains securing him to this place. However, broken in body, mind, and soul, Ciel felt his feet carry him forth through the iron gate and up the stairs. Perhaps it had been that he had nowhere else to go, that he was compelled to place his hand against the cold black doorknob, and turn it.

Within, he felt the warmth of the fireplaces breathe against his skin, welcoming him, though they offered little condolence. He trudged along the long stretch of carpet within the entry hall, wanting no more than to traverse the black stairwell waiting in the darkness beyond, and ascend to the last pitiful haven he possessed. The promise of his bed, the embrace of empty sleep, beckoned, and he followed after it's call with little enthusiasm, despite his overwhelming desire to rest. His eyelid felt heavy, his head swam in a pool of tears, and every muscle in his body resented every step he took.

Several voices within the parlor ended his trek, however, as a sudden shrill voice exclaimed loudly, "Oh! You're still alive!"

A blossom of red was the only warning he had before a vice like embrace locked firmly around his body, and a solid torso collided against his own, paired with a frantic cheek that nuzzled against the side of his head, "I was so worried, love! Where did you go off to?! Abandoning me like that, the nerve of you!"

Ciel stared at Grell with an empty eye, as he relinquished his suffocating grasp upon the boy and held him at arm's length, scanning him up and down with furrowed eyebrows, "You look like hell! What have you been doing this whole time?!"

The boy remained silent, unwilling to honor the idiotic Death God with any response. Instead, he looked into the space between those emerald eyes and his own, at the bubble of possibilities that could have been his company to that dreadful theater. Had the Death God been present, would he have had to suffer that moment within the demon's grasp?

"Ahem," Ciel's concentration was broken, and he and Grell both looked into the parlor, and he noticed a familiar bureaucratic reaper, who adjusted his glasses and stood up from his perch within a tall armchair, "If that is the case, then the rest is up to you, Grell Sutcliff."

"What is the meaning of this?" Ciel said, as William T. Spears approached them.

"Well, not that it's any of your concern," the Death God tucked his ledger under his arm, "but today, we are concluding our search for the leftovers of the angel's last visitation."

Ciel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, before William continued, "Also, there is another matter concerning the destruction of the Ward. There is no replacement to sustain your protection, so to keep you longer under our jurisdiction will be a complete waste of resources. Furthermore, since you returned from the alleged hostage exchange alive, we are likely to assume that you are of no longer interest to the demon, Sebastian Michaelis."

Ciel looked stunned, and as those last few painful and puzzling words glided against his ears in that cold bureaucratic tone, he felt the lump in his throat gain in mass. The reaper pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose one final time, concluding, "Therefore, I'm forced to terminate our arrangements. We will no longer be requiring his assistance, if there was any to begin with, let alone do we need you as a hostage under our protection."

Though this news paled in comparison to his former trauma, Ciel could still feel inside his chest a firm pressure; a nagging feeling that slowly grew up from a small corner of his being, which prompted his eyes to follow the brunette Death God, and allowed him to ask flatly, "And what is to become of me then?"

"Well," William said, "If I'm correct in understanding this, you have a prior contract with Grell Sutcliff concerning such a matter. What becomes of you from here on in is between the both of you, it is of no concern of mine."

The lump in his throat became suffocating, and he felt the overwhelming sense of nausea bubble up within the pit of his stomach, as he felt the fingers resting upon his shoulders flex with giddy joy. Without bothering to look behind him, he already knew that there was a mischievous glint that had ignited within a certain pair of twin emerald irises. After six years with that security blanket draped over his shoulders, the gift of his own armor from Grell's favorite hobby, the painful limitations and irritating restrictions were finally abolished. The dread that now trickled over his shoulders was spawned from ancient survival instinct, and it caused his body to tense with terror, though his mind was preoccupied elsewhere on something much more painful than torture and death.

What held his mind, as he watched the black suited reaper's back as he departed, was a mere fraction of his speech. A tiny piece that confirmed the solid facts with a cold stamp of flat sincerity: _You are of no longer interest to the demon, Sebastian Michaelis._

Whatever denial Ciel had built within was dealt a swift blow that left a thick crack along the surface. The scar of truth, to forever linger in his mind, should doubt ever try to cloud the fact that Sebastian had indeed abandoned him forever. It is one thing to know the truth, it is another to hear another confirm your worst fears. Ciel's heart felt heavy within his chest, and his legs quivered slightly from the weight.

Was there nothing left to him but pain and misery? Had he truly entered his final circle of Hell? He took a glance at Grell, who passed by him for one final effort to flirt with the departing bureaucrat. Within Ciel's head, he heard none of the nonsense that escaped the scarlet Death God's lips, but registered one truth. As soon as that door closed, and he was left alone in that mausoleum of a manor, his body would be subject to whatever unspeakable horrors that Jack the Ripper could think up, and this time; there was no one, not even an imaginary noble Sebastian, to save him.

"_Savor it!" _

He could easily recall the many reapings that he had witnessed; the evidence of the sadistic reaper's hellish delight. Though it had been their time to die, they often went to their deaths with one final nightmare, before the Gates of Heaven swooped them up into their bosom and accepted them into their safe warm haven, or the Gates of Hell devoured them whole with their torture as a prelude to their eternity.

Suddenly, something came to mind, and the importance of it forced Ciel to open his mouth and spout it loudly at William's retreating back before the door swung closed, "Where will I go when I die?"

Both Death Gods paused, looking back at him for a moment. William adjusted his glasses once more, before he simply stated, "Soulless people don't exist. You're a shadow, a memory contained in a flesh shell. Nothing more. Therefore, when you die, you will cease to be."

Subarctic temperatures claimed Ciel's flesh, and he felt faint for a moment, as if William's words had struck him hard in the stomach. He couldn't muster up another word in time to prevent the Death God's departure, and as the door clicked closed and the lock was turned, Ciel felt the glaive of doom fall upon his head.

"Hehehe~!" Ciel heard the sound of Grell's laugh as if it was in some distant hallway, and not five feet in front of him. The Death God spun around and smiled delightedly, saying, "Now it's just you and I~!"

Grell advanced upon Ciel, and he backed up instinctively, though the taller man easily captured him, grasping his hands in his own, and inquiring excitedly, "So, how was he? Beautiful as ever, I bet! Oh god damn it all, I wish you would have waited for me! You and that brat always get to be so lucky, seeing him everywhere, and now you've seen him in the flesh, I couldn't be more jealous!"

Ciel refused to respond, still feeling the emptiness consuming every corner of him, as Grell asked, "So, he didn't take you. What happened? Didn't put out for him either?"

Though Ciel didn't bother to decipher if that had been a joke or an insult, he finally answered flatly, in a near whisper, "You don't have a daughter anymore."

"Eh?" Grell's eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mea--- did you kill her?!"

The look that overcame the Death God's face was a disturbing cross between pride and subtle disappointment; as if Ciel had accomplished something remarkable, and had to rip apart one of his dresses to do it.

"I might as well have," Ciel's voice wavered slightly, "I sacrificed her to him. He took her in my place."

Grell was stunned silent for a moment, before Ciel concluded, "He took her because I have no soul."

After a long silence, Ciel heard a delighted sigh suddenly escape Grell's lips, as he clasped his hands together in a swoon, and smiled, "Aww~! How romantic!"

Ciel looked at him with a look mixed with equal parts disgust and confusion, as his mistress giggled, "To think! My daughter suited for Sebastian's palate? I wonder if he enjoyed it? Of course, all that dedication to her upbringing must have shown through to him!"

Shocked and appalled by the reaper's despicable joy at the loss of Dahlia and the claim of her rearing, Ciel felt his blood boil for a brief moment, before Grell leaned in and grasped both of his hands in his own, "Don't you think, Ciel honey? Sebaschan couldn't bear ending your life, so he took somebody else. It's romantic, isn't it?"

Ciel blinked for a moment, but his mind refused to accept that garbage as the reason behind Dahlia's abduction. The demon had very well wanted him to suffer, and had it been for any romantic reason, leaving him with a heart so deeply cleaved defeated the purpose. Overwhelmed with the toxic thought, he pushed that theory to the darkness beyond his comprehension and focused on the disgust he felt in his hands as they were in Grell's. He gritted his teeth and looked down at those black clad fingers as they clasped his, and felt that they were undeniably soft. Deciding for the sake of his own sanity to think of something else, he tried his hardest to distract himself by guessing just what those black gloves were crafted from.

"Or maybe not," Grell said, tossing his long scarlet hair over his shoulder and running one free hand though the tresses thoughtfully as the other held Ciel's hand, "Perhaps he was just fed up and wanted to eat something… but still, to think that my little Dahlia was chosen for his meal! What an honor! Maybe it was a romantic gesture on his part towards me! Yes, I'm sure of it~!"

_Rabbit fur?_ Ciel continued guessing, mentally blocking out Grell's words and the ravenous corrupted thoughts that continued to gnaw viciously at his sanity.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over his hand, and he looked up, and saw that Grell's face was mere inches from his own, eyebrow bent in scrutiny, as if wondering why Ciel hadn't been blessing him with 100% attention. They relaxed in a sympathetic sigh, and he released his butler's hand, to circle around the young man's back and embrace him. Ciel did not flinch, and he paid no mind to the action, as his eye continued to concentrate on the pair of black gloves resting against his chest.

"Aww, sweet heart," Grell crooned in Ciel's ear, who still persisted to show no response, "Don't be upset. We can always start over, you know?"

"Start over?" Ciel looked up, the disgust burning in him once more with furious intensity.

"Of course!" Grell smiled, snow white hair brushing against his nose and lips as he nuzzled the side of the young man's head, "We could try again. Maybe this time, a little boy."

Ciel looked into the void, invisible but sitting in the center of the room, as he considered the possibility of trying again. Raising some other soul that could be of use to him; but the image of Dahlia and Sebastian within the mausoleum killed his will and made him cringe in pain at the memory.

Hot breath suddenly woke him back to reality, as he felt Grell's presence less than an inch from his ear, and heard him whisper, "You know, I've also recently entertained the idea of installing some actual noble blood into the next one…"

"Noble blood?" Ciel repeated.

"Hehe~!" Grell giggled, drawing a circle on his little captive's chest softly, "You know… I've seen a picture of what your father looked like. Quite a keeper, really… the late Earl of Phantomhive. Such a pretty jaw line and feathery cocoa colored hair…"

Ciel's eye widened in sickened realization, and he turned his head as far as it would go to look up at the crimson Death God with a look soaked in toxic resentment. The very thought of it made him want to wretch. He took that poison and converted it to the wickedest hiss, "Even if such an abomination were possible, I'd rather be dead before such a thing was ever conceived."

"Oh, come now!" Grell said, smacking his hand against the boy's chest, "You're just playing coy."

Ciel could feel the sickness continue to steep. The audacity of the suggestion of muddying his ancestral blood with something so vile caused him to feel his innards twist into a knot wreathed in barbed wire. The feeling of those black gloved fingers against his shirt burned, and he found them unbearable.

Then, as if Grell was capable of reading his mind, Ciel felt the unbearable sensation of breath against his ear once again, as the Death God whispered, "You like my gloves? They're cat fur."

It took Ciel a moment, before he remembered that he hadn't seen any sign of his feline guardian. His eye widened in terror, and his stability cracked; summoning forth a piercing cry that rumbled up from his chest. He violently twisted out of Grell's grasp, and whirled around, sapphire lightning flashing in his eye as he heaved with rage, "God damn you!"

Grell smirked, wiggling his fingers playfully as he held them up to either side of his face, "Aww… I take it you don't like them then? Pity, I thought they were lovely…"

"I've had enough of this madness!" Ciel shouted, grasping his head in his hands, slender fingers twisting around in his snowy hair and pulling, "I can't take it anymore!"

Grell watched him for a moment, his mental breakdown amusing him. He tapped the side of his face in thought, "My, my… so angry. All this over a mangy cat?

"IT'S NOT ABOUT THE CAT!" Ciel screamed, "I'm exhausted! I've had enough of loss. I'm tired of the paranoia and the distrust, and I can't take this anymore! How much further must I be pushed? How much more must I be forced to endure? I'm already broken, why can't you all just leave me alone?!"

After a few moments, Ciel finally dropped his hands to his sides, and stood up, "Today, I resign. I will not work for you another minute. I've made a stupid mistake coming back here."

He turned to walk towards the door, but no sooner was his hand upon the door knob, than a firm grasp seized his wrist, and pulled him backwards, crashing him into Grell's torso, "Oh, sweetheart… I don't think so."

Ciel glared fiercely, "Let me go this instant."

"You know, I would love to," Grell's eyes were dark, "but quite frankly, I refuse to go back to cleaning my own shirts."

"Then hire somebody else!" Ciel bit, "There's plenty more capable than I am!"

"Of course there are," the crimson devil smirked, "but how many people can boast they have a little noble working for them? Besides, you'll find that it's an incredibly difficult task to find somebody who can so easily accept my… line of work, and look so damn cute in my outfits."

Ciel stared at him for a long, hard moment, feeling the frustration within his blood blossom in full. The door knob was only mere inches from his fingers, taunting him with the promise of his freedom, yet as the Death God encased him in a cage of his stronger arms, Ciel's mind raced with any solution to obtain his freedom.

Grell was an immortal beyond his murdering capability. Simply stabbing the Death God would not disrupt him any more than a fly landing on his shoulder. Mercy was not in the cards, and Ciel refused to beg for such a thing, despite his desperation. Then, as if Grell was once again capable of clairvoyance, he said, "And don't think you can sneak out either. All I have to do is look up your record, and I'll know exactly where you are."

There was no escape. Ciel gritted his teeth, thinking desperately, though one impulsive idea, a flittering portion of a sentence that he had let slip from his lips, suddenly exploded as his only solution, and as the burning sensation of those unwanted fingers on his body twisted his stomach into a knot, he reached out and grabbed a hold of that solution and held fast, despite the ironic cruelty that was the result.

_I'd rather be dead._

With a burst of stamina fueled by adrenaline and frustration, he broke free of Grell's embrace once more, and ran down the hallway. Though he ran, he could hear the Death God giggle, and the sound of those cursed heels thudding against the carpet ring in his ears. He veered around the corner, and threw open the door to the kitchen doors.

Shutting the doors behind him and pressing his back against their surfaces as a sort of lock, his eyes scanned the room briskly, looking desperately for the key towards his escape. They fell upon the very key; shining menacingly from it's bed upon a cutting board, lying on it's side from neglect after it's use, was a silver cutting knife. It's single tooth smiled brightly at him, beckoning him to the means of his escape with a wink of light along it's mirror surface.

Hearing the thuds behind him elevate in volume, he rounded the table and took the knife into his hand, feeling the smooth worn wood against his fingers. His fingers began to tremble for a moment, considering just what his mind had decided to do. Reflected in that surface, Ciel could see those cruel memories. Each one almost a blur as his mind reeled with the options; and each resulted in obvious failure. He was trapped, without a savior, without a plan. His brilliant mind, corrupted by years locked in Hell, could find no other solution. Perhaps it was poetic justice… that his life, held aloft in the bosom of childhood bliss, and the new life fueled by the overwhelming need for his own vengeance, ended and began by a blade.

For a very brief moment, Ciel could feel like he was being watched. The shadows that lurked in the corners of the kitchen seemed to hold an audience that remained silent as they watched their morbid entertainment, looming ever closer to watch in suspense as the actor raised his weapon to his chest.

This was the right path. His broken mind was certain of it. The blade in his hand was the key to his salvation. He would be free of the cruelty; of this crimson Hell that Sebastian had condemned him to upon that stage. He would have his virtue, if anything, kept intact. His breath quivered, as that shine continued to beckon towards him. The lump in his throat choked him, survival instinct demanding him to reconsider his actions, but his determination was strong. His need to leave behind all the torment and chaos enveloped all of his reason, and suffocated it.

Images of his lost parents, the family and friends throughout the years, all surrounded him. His father, mother, aunt, Dahlia, possibly Maylene, Bard, and Finnian… all of them dead. If he were to die, however, he would never see them. His soul was dead, while his body was living on the whim of immortal jokers. He rejected Heaven, and Hell held no claim on him. The one who did, traded him for another, and the owner who kept his remains was nothing short of a vulture that he refused to spend the rest of his life with. Oblivion was good. It meant that he was certain to finally rest in peace forever. What was dying in vain compared to being devoured by a demon? Either way, his soul was meant for nothingness. He pressed the blade against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the tip thrill his skin just below his collar bone. Every breath teased his chest with promise of being his last.

He closed his eye, licking his lips, preparing to sink that deadly key deep into his flesh. His fingers prickled lightly, and he paused for a brief moment. Considering that prickling sensation, he thought he saw a flash of crimson in the corner of his eye, and he looked up, expecting to see something standing in the shadows, crimson eyes trained on him, waiting for his final decision. There was nothing there.

A tear slid free from his eye, and he trembled, before he bit his lip and rolled his shoulders, finally making his decision. He placed that blade against his chest once more, and drew one final breath, inhaling deeply, preparing for the final plunge.

There was another set of breaths other than his own present, and his ears picked up on it just before he drove the knife down. His eye flipped open, and he looked behind him to see the unwelcome guest. Stupidly, he had forgotten in his moment of desperation that he had been followed, and he felt his own embarrassment faintly blossom as he looked at the table and saw Grell perched upon it, legs crossed, with his elbows resting on his knees, knit fingers supporting his jaw as he watched Ciel intently with glittering jade irises.

"Aww… why did you stop?" Grell asked, tilting his head to the side with a look of disappointment, "I was getting so excited~! The drama, the agony! It's almost too much to bear, Ciel love! Keep going!"

He couldn't describe just what gripped him at that moment. The most eloquent description he could supply was that he was stunned. He felt as if he was being taunted, despite his dire situation, and it distracted him from his bloody deed with a scab of his resentment.

Grell hooked his netted fingers around one of his kneecaps, and drew it up closer to his chest, leaning his head against it, sighing, "Well, that's annoying. The suspense was really killing me, I must admit… and I was looking forward to seeing all your lovely blood upon the floor. It would have been breathtaking, I'm sure."

Ciel looked at the blade once more, it's promise still standing as it winked at him. However, the thought that his suicide was nothing more than entertainment for the wicked devil that sat perched upon the table behind him was a discouraging thought. However, it was that evidence that made him grit his teeth and once again bring that knife up to position.

"Hmm," Grell tapped the side of his face with his finger for a moment, before he said, "I'm surprised you would go for the lungs. Most people would slit their throats or wrists, or plunge it into the heart for a quick job of it. Not you, though, Ciel. You are quite the dramatic one! A nice, slow, bloody death is the way to do it!"

The Death God then drew a lock of crimson hair over his shoulder, running his fingers through it, "Though, I love the idea of me nursing you back to health after all this. It'll be quite a bonding couple of months, I suspect."

He smiled mischievously, as Ciel's sapphire eye widened and the blade came away a couple inches from his chest, "Oh, come now. I said I didn't have any intention of cleaning my own dresses again, and finding good help these days who will help you chase down people and hold them while you chop them to itty bitty bits is quite a difficult task."

Grell slipped off the table and walked over to the boy, five of his fingers setting on his shoulders, while his other five caressed the blade within the boy's hand, "However, I just love watching blood flow… such the prettiest of colors! The thought of how that lovely white flesh would look with garden of fresh roses upon it just sends chills up and down my spine~! Please, dear… do it for me! The kitchen will look ever so pretty!"

Ciel suddenly felt the tip of the blade begin tear through his shirt, and press against his flesh. Grell giggled as he guided it, and Ciel's mind wheeled with the panic of his demise being out of his control. Doubts and second thoughts suddenly gripped him, and he pressed back to avoid the knife's path. The knife nevertheless found him again, and it thrilled his skin as it's tip touched against his flesh, and a small crimson bead welled up from beneath the silver.

"Stop!" Ciel gasped, using his own hands to resist Grell's pull upon the knife.

"Aww," Grell groaned, "why? You've come so far already… besides, who do you think you're playing with?"

Ciel looked over at him for a moment, as Grell raised an eyebrow, "I'm a Death God, remember? You think that killing yourself will end everything? Ha~! Will already approved of my ownership over you. You're soulless, remember? There's nobody to fight over you."

Ciel couldn't exactly describe the feeling that now squatted like a toad so low in his chest. He could feel it rise, and become suffocating. The utter loneliness, and those final condemning words stunned his ruined mind. Denied of every escape; offered once again this wretched life, Ciel's mind fell into the furthest realm of despair. The brief moment of pain, and then endless rest became a new reality: a moment of pain that would persist forever; a mark of his weakness as he was restrained from his ending by those disgusting hands. His efforts defeated, his escape routes blocked, he hung his head, staring into the blade that rested in his hand, still smiling with the desire to inflict that blossom of pain upon its helpless host.

For a brief moment, Ciel could almost swear he saw a different reflection upon the knife's mirror like surface; one of a familiar garnet haired woman. Quite lovely, yet her pretty, delicate features suddenly twisted into a darkened expression, as her lips mimed a silent shout that he could recall loudly, as if he had heard it only hours before. A woman trapped in her own insanity fueled by her own endless losses.

"Why," Ciel whispered, his words barely audible, "Why will you not let me go? What sets me apart from everyone else you kill without a second thought? You killed Madame Red for showing such weakness… and yet you spare my life. Is it because my misery amuses you? Why?"

"Why? Well, I would think it horribly obvious," the Death God nuzzled the side of his broken doll, his voice crooning pleasantly, "I don't intend on giving up the one thing that Sebaschan desired, and that I was able to keep for six whole years."

Then, the crimson devil giggled as he added, "Plus, I still have a little bit of hope that you'll look like that ravishing daddy of yours one day."

He didn't hear the final piece of Grell's loathsome play. He felt ultimately defeated, shamed, and exhausted. Exhaustion without any sign of rest, like the thought of water to a man dying of thirst lost in a desert.

_Desired._

_Depraved._

_Abandoned._

_Alone._

Ciel felt hollow once more, and his fingers fell away from the blade that was poised against his chest, leaving the blade to rest loosely in Grell's hand. Deprived of his control, he left his fate to those gloved fingers, hoping that he would give into the temptations of his sadistic nature and plunge the blade in, firm and fast. He dreamt in a moment that he could let loose a string of profanities and insults towards his so called master, and in his fury, the reaper would delve that blade into him. He then hoped that Grell would loose control at the sight of the red flower, and would continue his ecstasy of torture, rendering his body useless to harbor any shadow of existence, carving the pain of his short life into him as he departed from that cruel world, never to awaken…

Never again would he suffer the memories past; the torture of his depravity and dire loneliness… and never again would he have to see the color crimson again. No more crimson blood, crimson flowers in the hallways, and crimson eyes…

_Crimson eyes._

A tear slid from his eye, and he gritted his teeth, preparing to encourage the Death God to strike, but as he opened his mouth to utter the first syllable of his corrupted speech, he felt a strange sensation in the tips of his fingers, which climbed up in his arms like roots through his bloodstream. It was a small prickling feeling, and he felt his arm twitch slightly, as if trying to stave off the pain. The feeling was so familiar, and it burned in warning. The pain intensified the longer his arm remained dormant, and finally he noticed that the knife was wickedly dancing along his skin, once again thrilling his flesh with the promise of incision. Left to his own devices, the incorrigible reaper had thoughts drifting along the same patterns of his captive, though as his toy's breathing continued to teeter the knife between harmless and deadly, he found simply drifting the blade along the snowy flesh quite amusing. Finally unable to resist, Grell pressed down and pulled away, drawing a shallow line of red over the boy's collarbone.

Ciel felt the prickling feeling suddenly intensify in a violent burst, and the pain in his chest burned brightly in white light. To Grell's sudden surprise, Ciel pushed back against him, shaking his head.

"Oh, finally a reaction~!" Grell laughed, "That's good! What would I have done if you would have remained a dead fish? It's much better when you're being feisty!"

Ciel turned around with tears streaming down his face, clutching his hand over his chest like a tourniquet over his wound, shouting, "STOP!"

Suddenly, he doubled over, coughing, feeling that surge of needles rise up his chest and up into his throat. Grell's eyes widened, as his butler continued to cough into his hand, and cried out in pain, as a trickle of red slid between his slender fingers. Placing the knife against the tabletop, he walked over to the boy, and grabbed his hand, examining a splatter of blood that now covered his palm.

"What happened?" He demanded, "I didn't even stab you!"

Ciel couldn't explain it either, but deep inside his chest, besides the unbearable pain spawning from so many sources, was an utter confusion that gnawed at the back of his mind. It was only when Grell exclaimed, "What's this?" that he realized what old curse still lay possession over his mind and body. As he looked up at those black clad fingers, he saw glinting in the light, stained crimson from their bloody ascension, a pair of shining silver needles.

Eye wide in a mixture of terror and astonishment, Ciel felt his body shake from the aftermath of his ordeal. His knees wobbled, and his head felt heavy. The world around him was slightly blurred, and found it hard to breathe. He suddenly felt his legs buckle out from beneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor.

His eyes tried to focus. Wavering between consciousness and unconsciousness, the floor below became a whirl of colors, except for a couple dashes of bright crimson; spackled haphazardly upon the kitchen stone. His mind focused on that warm color, and Ciel's mind became flooded in it. Deep, beautiful, unbearable red.

† † † † †

The rest was a blur. Within the darkness of that terrible night, Ciel finally obtained rest. Yet, it was not eternal, and it was not peaceful, nor deep. In his barely conscious state, captured somewhere merely shadowed by his subconscious, he could see brief minutes of the moments that passed. He could feel the pull of gravity on his body as he was pulled from his bloody bed upon the floor and lifted up into a bridal style carry. He felt his head loll from weakness, as he saw the familiar pictures drift by on the walls up the stairs.

He could even recall a particular moment where he heard his carrier say under his breath, "Damn boy. One day your damn luck's going to change," as they turned from the hallway leading towards the master's quarters, and up the stairs towards the loft. He could even feel the sudden fall and slight bounce as he was carelessly dropped onto the familiar bed, and heard the door shut loudly as angry clicks sounded from beyond it's barrier.

In that grey space between dream and reality, life and death, Ciel thought of nothing but that lingering prickling that subsided from his body in light ebbs. He looked down at his palm, and saw a single pin still laying tucked beneath his fingers. Dreamily, he lifted that slender silver form before him, and without any reason or rhyme, he touched it to his chest, gathering a little blood, and touched it to his wall beside him. Like a pen fueled by bloody ink, he etched a design upon the wall like a canvas. His vision mostly obscured by the steady grey blur, he couldn't tell what exactly it was that he was sketching, but once he was finished, he made another, and another.

Lost in his own broken mind once more, Ciel whispered faintly, "_I'm alone. Nobody can hear me… I've lost my mother, father… everyone… and now there's only me. I'm not strong enough on my own. Somebody… anybody… please save me_."

Somewhere beyond his fifth sketch, Ciel succumbed to the trauma that embraced him so tightly, and drifted off into a heavy black veil of sleep.

* * *

This is such a dark, painful chapter! And I must include: your end is not here. It's in another chapter.

Hello everyone! Pleasure to see you all again! As I have posted in various places on the internet, I have had quite a nasty month. One too many things went horribly wrong, and unfortunately, this story had to take a brief hiatus, until today. I really must thank all of you for being so patient with me these last few updates… especially with them being such suspenseful, dark installments.

There is much more to come, though!

I must apologize; I know that to some, my writing style has been taking a large turn for the ultra dark and depressing. Especially with this very touchy subject involving his solution of possible suicide. Let it be known I do not intend on encouraging others to follow this idea, no matter how I may write it for a fragment of a story, I would like to have it known that I did not write it to encourage people to start poetically harming themselves. Poor Ciel! How can he rise up from these ever so suffocating ashes? And just what do these pins symbolize that could be so important?

The songs involved in this chapter's composition are: Nemo by Nightwish and My Immortal by Evanescence.

I intend to release the next chapter before Christmas. I think it would be appropriate anyway, since it is a very important chapter, and I know most of you will love to sink your teeth into it as soon as possible!

Another little random author adventure for you all, since I was gone so long; You are all familiar with my little muse Sebaschan doll, correct? How he threatens me into doing updates? Well, he went MISSING!!! While I was ill, my little doll decided to go on an epic journey someplace, and did not return for some time! I found it quite scary, since I go to bed with it next to my alarm clock every night, and one morning, it was gone. I tore my entire room apart looking for my lost little butler, but I couldn't find him. I was rather upset (I have grown quite attached to it, despite it's rather mean behavior) at losing him… but it was later that week that he just popped up again beside a cup of English Breakfast tea and a plate of vitamins and shortbread! I had suspected that he had made the food himself, but because of his tiny size, it took him extra long to compose such a miniature meal.

((To spoil the magic and state the absolute obvious; my little sister stole him away in the dead of night to show her friends, and LEFT HIM AT SCHOOL for a COUPLE DAYS. She thought that since I was still quite sick, she would fix me a gesture of apology while sneaking him back into my room quite cleverly. Fortunately, I've got my mom-spy to keep me well informed!))

That aside, I am feeling quite well now, and despite a few unfortunate situations within my family, I am geared to being productive in creating more of these elaborate tales for your enjoyment! Thank you all for staying with me, and for being so patient with my horrible updating. I look forward to posting up the next installment as soon as possible, and may you all have very happy holidays!


	31. Chapter 31: Rêve

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you may be wondering; _Rêve _is _Dream_ in French.

-----------------

**-31-**

**Rêve**

Emptiness felt like a massive weight upon his chest. In the solitude of black sleep, he could feel only the sharp, singing pain upon his collarbone and within his blood. The memory of the knife's kiss, and the caress of pins against his tongue and lips caused him great discomfort and distress, despite his efforts to doze off into nothingness and remain floating there in the darkness, safe and alone. Caught between the planes of awake and asleep, Ciel felt aware of the world around him, despite his shut eyes.

The room that harbored him was cold and still. The air was stale as it filled his lungs, reminiscent of a tomb. The mattress beneath his body felt cold like stone, and the more he tried his hardest to quell reality and enter a realm of peaceful slumber, the more the bed felt like a slab of cold marble. As the wound on his chest began to burn, he pressed his subconscious hand covered in sheet against it; a makeshift tourniquet. A tear slid from his eye as he whispered softly, "_Help me._"

Suddenly, he felt a soft warmth blossom over his skin, like a breath of life. He basked in that radiant feeling, still floating in a misty realm, and he felt the incision upon his collarbone's pain subside. He slowly started becoming aware of alterations in his bleak surroundings. There were gentle, hurried thuds to the left of him, which, as he concentrated, he could recognize as footsteps. Voices started becoming apparent; soft at first, as if their sources resided at the end of a long tunnel.

His eye fluttered open to see just who was the intruder into his domain, but what he saw left him puzzled in a blurry realm. Through a sleepy lens, he beheld a warm room bathed in fresh soft sunlight. A bed lay opposite of him, bedding messy from a quick departure from it's recent resident. He furrowed his eyebrows, as his still coma induced mind tried to comprehend just how such a thing were possible in his tiny attic space.

A disruption and ultimate contradiction broke his concentration, as the voice suddenly boomed at full volume in his ear, and coaxed him to sit up in bed.

"Oh gosh, I'm late!" A blonde boy shouted, as he arrived into Ciel's line of vision and plopped down on the bed opposite of him, one dirty brown boot thrown onto the mattress while he struggled with it's brother. Ciel's eye widened in surprise, and his mouth opened slightly, to choke out, "Finnian?"

The blonde youth's head shot up, and aqua eyes blinked, as he said, "Oh! You're awake!"

Ciel looked around frantically, trying to gather just what this world was. What painful dream had he fallen into this time? Defensively, he scooted up against the headboard, pulling the sheets around him like a barrier.

"Stay away," Ciel said, "Cruel apparition."

"Apparition?" Finnian repeated cluelessly, tossing his head to the side with a confused look on his face, "Are you feeling alright?"

"You're not real," Ciel said, closing his eye and shaking his head, "This is just an illusion!"

Suddenly, he felt a hand smack against his forehead, and his eye opened wide in shock, looking up at a concerned gardener's face as he hovered over him. The feeling of the hand being pressed against his head burned slightly, and Ciel could even feel the young man's breath blossom against his face as he leaned in, removing his hand and pressing his own forehead against his. The feeling of warm flesh against his own, and the solidity of the skull beneath as it slightly ground against him made Ciel's mind wander with a cloudy disbelief.

"Hmph," Finnian retreated, sitting back on the bed, hands balled up in fists against both knees. "You don't have a fever… I was kinda worried actually. You cut yourself by accident falling on my spade in the garden, and I never would be able to forgive myself if you got an infection and died because I was so careless. Sebastian would never let me forget it either!"

Ciel couldn't comprehend a single word of his sentence, his mind knowing the absolute truth; the image of Grell's cat fur covered fingers caressing the blade as it danced over his skin, leaving a ribbon of scarlet in it's wake. He just shook his head, clamping his eyes shut and gripping his hair in his hands, muttering, "It's not real! You're not real!"

Suddenly, lithe but strong young arms embraced him, and pulled him into a wall of cloth and chest. The young blonde's cheek rested on top of his head, and he whispered softly, "Hey now, don't be like that. It's a special day, you know? You shouldn't be so upset! Hush, okay?"

The boy meant well, but his pats on the back were less than gentle, making Ciel's body rumble inside as if his bones were knocked free and had to rearrange themselves. He cried out for a moment in warning, and Finnian released him, an embarrassed flush gracing his face as he laughed, "Oops, sorry! I still don't know my own strength. Hope I didn't hurt you!"

It was the fact that they hurt that worried Ciel the most. As he felt the bruises already form on his back where the boy's comforting took place, his mind raced with questions. He had had vivid dreams before; moments fueled by his desire to have his old life back in the comfort of his familiars, but this dream felt too real, and it scared him. Shaking, he felt the tears well up in his eye, and he hung his head again.

"Should I go get help?" Finnian asked, touching the other boy's shoulder.

Ciel timidly grasped the hand upon his shoulder and looked at those slender fingers. Soft peach and rosy in some places, and so warm that Ciel couldn't help but lift them to the side of his face. The dirt beneath the gardener's nails even gave off a faint scent of earth and grass, and his palm was a tad scratchy from calluses. He looked up at that face, so soft and friendly, and not a day older than he had seen him years before.

There was a loud sound from beyond the pair, and both boys looked over as the door was banged open, and a man arrived, shouting, "FINNI! Get up! You're late!"

"Sorry, Bard," Finnian said, "Ciel doesn't feel well, I think. He doesn't have a fever, but he's acting strange."

The scruffy cook lifted his eyebrows and walked over to them, "Well now, you're still alive. That's good to know. Almost thought Finny killed ya when you fell on that spade."

"Aww Bard!" Finnian protested with a huff, "That's not fair! It was an accident!"

Ciel stared at the cook, eye taking in everything with deep scrutiny and disbelief, though the man was as real as the scent of scorched meat and flour that radiated off of his apron. The man looked him up and down a little gruffly, hands on his hips as he examined him, "Hmph, doesn't look sick."

"He's been talking strange though," Finnian informed, "he started saying that I'm not real and then began crying. Bard, I'm worried about him."

Bard snuffed for a moment, and then pressed a hand against Ciel's forehead. The cook's fingers were smooth in some places and rough in others from minute burns due to his eccentric culinary tools. They had a deep heat to them that Ciel drank in, and he felt a soft despair within as they lifted away from him to return to the cook's hip once more. Bard scratched his chin, puzzled, "Well, no fever, though if he isn't feeling well, it can't be helped, right?"

He turned around and strode over to the door, saying, "I'll whip you up some soup real quick while I'm in the kitchen, okay? Take it easy and don't push yourself. Finny, you should get to work."

"Right," Finnian nodded, concluding with a salute. As the cook nodded and departed, Ciel watched him go, as if he was a ghost that just drifted in and out of his life, to disappear within a wall.

"Well," Finnian sat up, shifting one leg so that it hung off the side of the bed, "I guess it's off to work."

Finnian stopped, when he felt something grasp his sleeve gingerly. He turned and looked back at the boy who stared up at him, his single eye darkened with inner turmoil. The blonde's aqua eyes blinked for a moment in curiosity, as Ciel whispered, "Wait."

"But I--" Finnian began to protest, but Ciel grasped the fabric of his shirt tighter, as if the gardener were to leave his bed, he would turn to dust and drift away. The look in Ciel's azure stare was filled with such a soft plea that the gardener's tender heart instantly gave in, and he kicked off his boots, laying down next to the pained boy.

"Stay with me," Ciel whispered, pressing his forehead against the gardener's chest, feeling the steady thump of the heart within, "I don't care if this is real or not… I just need someone here with me."

The gardener's fingers rested on Ciel's scalp, lightly ruffling his hair, "Hey, it's okay. The master gave up on me sometime ago anyway, so I can probably get away with spending a little time with you. I'm sure he'll understand."

_The master…_

Ciel looked up for a moment, studying the gardener's face. Though he was absolutely certain that this was all just a cruel, vivid dream, he was overwhelmed by the heat of the mystery behind this reality. As he contemplated the thought of who was the current king of the castle they occupied, he was distracted by the faint scent of honey and grass that wafted off the boy's skin and clothes. It was undeniably fresh and real, that it was almost painful to think that it did not exist. He closed his eye again, and breathed in that warmth of life, finding a gentle solace against him. It was comforting in some strange way, being so close to another. A feeling of being safe and secure in the presence of someone that still held a soft innocence within them, with any malicious intent absent all together from his soul. Though the fear of it being a lie continued to gnaw at his mind, Ciel felt, for the first time in years, a brief, fluttering moment of peace.

Moments passed, and Ciel spent most of it resting. Finnian dozed off, lulled off into dreamland by the soft pillow beneath his splayed blonde hair. He snored slightly, which rose Ciel from his own meditation. Realizing that there was more to this reality than just the figure laying beside him, he decided to finally explore more. He sat up, and looked around the room for the first time. It was vaguely familiar; the walls and floor of the servant's quarters were decorated simply with four beds on either side of the wide room, and a pair of bedside tables. A single cabinet lay against the wall; doors open from a quick rummage through. Chancing a glance over at the slumbering lad beside him, Ciel finally decided to slip from the bed.

The floor was warm underfoot, as if the sunlight had baked it's surface lightly. He walked over to the ajar door, and opened it further just a crack, looking out into the world beyond, as if a topsy-turvy carnival Wonderland lay beyond. Seeing a familiar stretch of hallway was the only thing outside of the servants' quarters, Ciel slipped out the door.

The carpeting below was subtly plush and soft. Every step was like a memory floating back to him, summoned forth with a warmth that blossomed in the soles of his feet, to climb up his legs and slither through his bones. Tears slowly dripped from his eye, as he looked at the familiar ghostly surroundings. He paused at the large window, through which he had once before peered through. Though the sunlight that drifted through the window was warm and content, the contrary world beyond still lay covered by a thick layer of snow, a faint white mist curling about the masonry and statues that lay in the skeletal garden of twigs and frostbitten plants.

'_Eternally winter in a world of ghosts,' _He thought, as he touched his fingers against the cool window pane. He pulled away from the portal, and continued down the hallway, trailing his fingers along the walls.

Unlike his dreams prior, this particular figment bore a slight warmth to it that felt soft and settling; bearing life and warmth that was unusual for Ciel to comprehend. The boy crossed his arms, rubbing them gently as he traversed those phantom halls. It wasn't long, before he started noticing a peculiar noise escaping from the ajar kitchen door. Ciel pushed it open with timid fingertips, and ducked behind the door just in time to avoid a jet of fire that shot directly at his face. A little shaken, he caught his breath and chanced to look around the door into the kitchen. The room was filled with a thick shroud of black smoke, and Ciel fanned his face to avoid inhaling the stuff. His eyes watered a little, and the scent was overwhelming, but the memories that came back blossomed so boldly, that he failed to retreat from the horrid place.

Picking his way around the cascade of dishpans and cutlery, Ciel ventured towards the man who lay sprawled on the floor, hair frazzled from the explosion that had sent him falling backwards. Standing over him, Ciel watched as the man laughed heartily, holding his sides delightedly as if he had just witnessed a clown tumble over. He snuffed and looked up at his visitor, chuckling, "Soup's on!"

Ciel looked up at the pot that loomed like an evil obelisk from the stove. It's top bubbled with a reddish brown froth that looked foreboding, and not the least bit appetizing. The scent it gave off was that of some dead animal and burnt animal hair, and Ciel was forced to clamp a hand over his nose to prevent nausea.

Bard got up onto his feet, adjusting his clothes and beating off the residue from the explosion, as Ciel turned and asked, "Just what kind is that? Am I really expected to eat such filth?"

"Well," Bard huffed, as he grabbed a clean bowl from amongst the rubbish on the counter. He picked up a ladle and dipped it into the swill, bringing it up with gusto and plopping the coagulated mush into the unfortunate container, "If you want to feel better, I suggest you drink up!"

He thrust it out at the boy, a look of sheer confidence gracing that gruff cook's face, as if the creation in his hand was indeed the next ambrosia of the gods. Ciel looked down at it cautiously, and accepted it, though it was against his better judgment. Looking down into that sienna brown pudding, he could feel his stomach churn. He looked up at the cook, however, who's painfully familiar visage forced Ciel to close his eye and dive into the soup.

The chowder was thick and vulgar; it crept down his throat, instead of sliding smoothly, and it clung to places within his jaw and the back of his throat, leaving a grotesque aftertaste that made Ciel almost instant retch. However disgusting the flavor, Ciel devoured it, tasting the torturous memories preserved in the burnt broth and mushy vegetables. His eye watered, and he used his sleeve to wipe it clean.

He would have offered a face of gratitude, though the most he could muster was a look between disgust and discomfort. Shaking a little from the shock running though his digestive system, and certain that he was most likely poisoned by the remedy, Ciel discarded the bowl and clicked his tongue in distaste.

"So? How was it?" Bard asked, enthralled that somebody had actually devoured his creation. Ciel gave him a glance that was more accusatory than grateful.

"What exactly was it supposed to be?" Ciel inquired, his voice a tad gravelly from the after affects of the soup.

"Chicken noodle," Bard said proudly, concluding with a small shrug, "What else could it have been?"

"That would not have been my first guess," Ciel said, "but thank you. It… helped."

"Good to know," Bard said, washing his hands in the sink and toweling them off on his apron, "You feelin' up to working today, or are you going to play sick dog all day?"

Ciel opened his mouth in inquiry, but something bursting through the kitchen doors immediately captured his attention. He turned around in time to avoid being knocked over by a rather excited white dog, the size of a large German Sheppard. The dog sat on its haunches, waiting expectantly with it's tale swishing rapidly behind him. Ciel stared at it with a wide eye, finally realizing just what this canine was.

"Pluto?" he whispered with disbelief, "You're still alive?"

"Heh, what kind of talk is that?" Bard said, as he rolled up one sleeve and dove his arm into the stove pot, dredging up bits of vegetable debris, "You know Pluto! He's been living with us for a while now."

"But," Ciel looked at the dog, which turned it's snowy head to gaze back at him, "Wasn't he much larger? Wasn't he dead during the London fire?"

"Eh?" Bard looked back at him for a moment, "What are you talking about? He was just knocked unconscious, is all. That's all you really needed to do to stop his rampage. Knock him into submission, and poof, opposition's down like a sack of potatoes and you've got man's best friend back in tow!"

He finally pulled from the soup a large thick bone, and Pluto barked, wagging his tail happily. The cook laughed, and tossed the object into the air, which the dog caught in midair, and began to immediately gnaw. As Ciel stared at the pair, and felt the sadness within conflict with the strange warmth that began to ebb beneath his skin, he backed away from them towards the door. His back suddenly collided with another, and he tumbled back onto the floor, a loud crash and a loud screech announcing his clumsiness.

He rubbed his head, groaning for a moment, before looking over his shoulder at what exactly he had backed into. Surrounded in white porcelain debris, was a rather panicky young maid, who was repeatedly checking her glasses in worry that they had been harmed during her fall. Adjusting them a little, she sighed, "Well, there goes another set of plates. Master's going to be angry with me again, I know it!"

"Maylene," Ciel whispered softly, which attracted the maid's attention.

"Yes?" She asked, looking at him through her thick lenses, "Ah! Good morning Ciel!"

He blinked for a moment, realizing that he had never before heard his name uttered by the maid. For many years now, he had heard his name carelessly tossed about, but he had never heard his name spoken by his former servants. Looking up at the auburn haired maid, he remained on the floor even after she had stood up. She reached down a hand to him, saying, "Oh dear! I hope you didn't hurt yourself!"

Ciel shook his head softly, and accepted her hand. Standing up, she said, "Why are you still in your bed clothes?"

"He's taking advantage of the master's absence today," Bard joked, once again stirring the dismal chowder with a large wooden spoon, "Thought he'd sleep in until the last minute, didn't you?"

Ciel furrowed his eyebrows, before he said, "No, I didn't--"

"Feel well, I know, I know," Bard laughed, "I'm just playing with you. You're honestly too serious, kid. You remind me too much of the young master."

"The-" The boy began. There was a conflicting chaos within fueled by confusion and intrigue. This world was so perplexing, and the mention of a young master was enough to spur his curiosity. Was it possible they meant him, and if so, why didn't they connect that he was the young master?

"Well, since the master isn't home at this time, then does that mean I can dress you up today?" Maylene asked, her voice getting a little giddy near the end with excitement. Ciel looked over at her, and still lost in his strange conundrum, he simply nodded. A happy giggle ensued from the maid, and he felt her grab a hold of his hand and tug him along behind her happily. Bard laughed heartily as the kitchen door swung open and shut behind the pair, before he turned and noticed that Pluto had plunged his head into the stew. A loud angry shout and the clang of pots could be heard from down the hall, as Maylene lead Ciel up a stairwell into the upper chambers.

"Aww, I'm so excited!" Maylene exclaimed happily, glancing over her shoulder, "Usually I never get the opportunity to play dress up with you, but since you said yes, and the master isn't here to object, it'll be fun!"

Ciel was used to 'dress up', living in the crimson Hell where it usually involved lots of pain, being forced into countless gaudy, morbid, flamboyant, or macabre outfits, and being tied to things. This was a normal routine that he greatly disliked, though he figured that being with the clumsy maid meant that it might be a tolerable task. At least he would be able to find some sort of acceptable explanation for the realm of which he had intruded.

"I don't dress in the servant's quarters?" he inquired, as she neared a door and opened it.

"Sometimes," She answered, as she lead him into a very familiar dressing room. Ciel stared at it all in wonder; the ghostly realm had yielded yards of fabric that, when he pressed a finger to them, felt incredibly smooth and soft. Outfits that he had owned so many years before were hung around the room. New garments adorned mannequins and hangers, ones that he failed to recognize. He touched a timid hand to a deep ocean blue jacket, feeling the fabric brush against the pads of his fingertips. He felt a white lace shirt, a pair of black leather boots, a blue pair of pants… all incredibly beautiful, and so calming to his eyes. Unlike the blaring bright red of the passionate, wrathful world he had been enveloped in, this was like ice against his temples; sweet fresh air in his lungs that he drew in pleasantly. He brushed the cool fabric against his cheek, and exhaled softly with appreciation.

"Ah! Beautiful choice!" Maylene said, trotting over to him. She took one sleeve of the jacket and examined it, "This one's perfect for you!"

She chose all the garments he had adored, and added socks and adornments. He walked behind a screen and dressed up on his own, since he feared that she was in trouble of passing out while she started turning red, fumbling with the first button on his nightshirt. Finished adjusting the jacket, he walked out from behind the screen, and Maylene gasped.

"Oh, you're so lovely," she said, clapping, "Look at yourself in the mirror!"

Ciel turned, and saw looking back at him a familiar youth; snow white hair over one sewn eye, though something looked healthier about him. He seemed to possess some sort of strange glow, that somehow made him feel at ease, and somewhat warm inside. Examining his appearance, Maylene fixed one of his shoulders and started rummaging around the room for suitable accessories with a giddy excitement reminiscent of a child with her doll.

Choosing this as an appropriate time for his interview, Ciel cleared his throat and inquired, "Bard said earlier that I remind of him of the young master. What did he mean by that?"

Maylene seemed to gasp in astonishment, and he turned to see her staring at him with disbelief. A part of him wanted to believe that she was shocked that he had forgotten he was the young master, but something about her response told him otherwise.

"The young master was the last Earl of the Phantomhive family," she began, "His name was Ciel. He was really adorable, but always so serious. He employed us first years ago."

The past tense hit Ciel one by one like bullets, and the questions bloomed in number as she continued, "We had many fun times back then, but that all came to an end when the young master went missing years ago."

"Missing?" Ciel asked, as he sat down in a chair in front of the salon mirror, looking up at her as she bent over him, seeing what accessories would best match his ensemble.

"Yes," Maylene replied sadly, sighing softly, "He fell off of the London Bridge. Some say he didn't survive the fall, others say that he drowned, and some also say that he fled the country because he was a coward. Those few fail to see that he was just a child, though, but I believe that he's still alive somewhere. I don't think a simple fall like that would have stopped him."

"And I'm not the only one," the maid decided on a dark blue velvet collar with a large azure stone embedded in the center, "Bard, Finny, even Sebastian believes that he's still alive somewhere in the world."

"Sebastian?" the maid stopped and looked at him with a slight startle.

"Oh! I meant Master Phantomhive," She corrected herself with a little nervousness that Ciel found slightly perplexing.

"Master Phantomhive?" Ciel repeated, his eye narrowing with thought, "So, you know his real name?"

"Well," Maylene looked up at him, "It's so difficult getting used to calling him Lord Bastion Phantomhive, when we all know who he really is… but it's necessary, if we want to keep this place intact for the young master's return."

"What do you mean by that?" Ciel felt his blood boil with the memory of his fresh betrayal, the day that he realized that his life had been viciously snatched away from him, and made a complete mockery of in the form of his cruel role reversal.

"The young master had many enemies," Maylene fastened the collar around his slender neck, "Sebastian said that he believed the young master was still alive somewhere, and until he found him, it was necessary to keep the house and the company under Phantomhive control. If left to be believed that the young master was dead and the Phantomhive line was ended, all of his belongings and assets would be seized and divided by the very people he opposed. Though Mr. Tanaka is steward of the house, Sebastian bore enough resemblance to the late Phantomhive head. It's amazing what a good makeup job and a wig can do."

_A wig and make up? What a joke, _Ciel scoffed. The web of lies that Sebastian had wove bore a simplistic, yet understandable root, and Ciel found it utterly laughable just how deep those lies lead.

"How did he fool everyone?" Ciel asked, "Couldn't they tell he was obviously a fake?"

"Sebastian is a very good actor," Maylene smiled, "He's even supplied 'proof' of his inheritance to the estate. A will from the late Phantomhive head that denotes a Lord Bastion Phantomhive as the next of kin to his son, and should his son have died, he would inherit everything."

Ciel laughed, which startled the maid for a moment. He coughed, clearing his throat, as he said, "Clever. Very, very clever. Wouldn't it have saved him trouble just to hire you all as Lord Phantomhive, rather than letting you know of this charade?"

"Well, he doesn't always look like Lord Phantomhive," She said, as she moved on to adding some silver cufflinks, "most of the time, he looks like his usual self. He just dresses up for the people who pass by."

Maylene finally finished his cuffs, and sighed once again, propping up her cheek with the palm of her hand, "I miss those old days, when we were all together. We were like a family; Sebastian, Me, Finny, Bard, and the young master. It is such a shame that we were separated so soon… we used to have so many good times, and we shared the bad times just as well, but we were all together then, and it was like Heaven in this house."

She stopped, and smiled, "But you know, now we have another family member, and things are a little like they were before, with you here."

Ciel felt the emptiness within widen; a guilt that he had often neglected her as a clumsy oaf who broke too many of his dishes and cost him a fortune in replacements. He felt sorry that he hadn't exactly held them at the highest of esteem back then, though he knew how much he had missed them all in the days that followed that tragic day.

Maylene smiled, "I'm glad Sebastian found you. You made this place livable, you know? Though you're not a replacement for the young master, you do have your charms that makes things a little better. Of course, you were utterly hopeless the first few days!"

She giggled, "Remember when Bard asked you to make a sauce and you burned it to a black gelatin? You made him say, 'You make me feel like a four star chef!'"

Ciel blushed a little with embarrassment, knowing that such a thing had indeed occurred to him years ago when he was beginning his servitude. However, the reception was much more hostile than what she had explained, as Grell sampled something that made him sick for several days thereafter, and Ciel had endured what it was like to be locked inside of a crematorium for the length of the sickness.

"You learned easily though," Maylene continued, "You're a pretty good worker, though I think that Sebastian takes it easy on you because he misses the young master."

She pinched his cheek a little, but Ciel's curiosity was sparked yet again, as he looked at her with a perplexed expression, "Why would he associate me with your young master?"

Maylene went over to a box perched upon an ottoman, and rummaged around inside, "Well, for starters, he named you after the young master, didn't he?"

"I…" Ciel started, confused. Unable to collect these lost threads of life, he searched the air for his answers to his past, "I guess so."

"Of course, he did find you in France, and Ciel means Sky in French, right?" Maylene mused, touching her index finger against her cheek, "Maybe he named you after the sky because your eyes are blue?"

She shrugged, and walked over to him, taking the lapel of his blue jacket into one hand, "Either way, I know that he holds you dearly. You can tell."

She pinned a large sapphire and silver brooch to the lapel, which Ciel immediately recognized in a flash of memory; slender white gloved fingers sliding away from his hand, revealing the resurrected ring of his ancestors. The brooch was a replica of the Phantomhive family head ring, which Ciel had refused to accept it being at home upon Sebastian's hand.

He touched the trinket gingerly, having not seen it's like in so many years. Maylene sighed in compliment, observing, "Very beautiful, Ciel."

"I must agree," Ciel instantly froze in place, as the voice that had arrived was too deep and smooth to belong to the likes of the maid. Those honey dipped words caressed his ears, and lured his eye to glance in the mirror at the reflection of a man clad in deepest black, who stood in the doorway of the dressing room.

Maylene gasped and squeaked, "M- my lord! When did you get home?"

"Just a few minutes ago," he replied, abandoning his long overcoat upon an empty branch of a coat tree, "I noticed that all of you were slacking off as usual. Finnian is asleep, Bard is playing with the dog, and you two are playing dress up. What sort of help have I hired, I wonder?"

"AH!" Maylene gasped, bowing in frantic apology, "I'm sorry, my lord! I will get to work immediately!"

With that, she abandoned the two, bolting out the door with a flurry of worry streaming from her lips as she ran down the hall. They eventually faded beyond Ciel's hearing, and though he was not alone, Ciel's eye lingered at the reflection of the door, staring at it, refusing to further acknowledge the second body that also occupied the room.

The soft taps of those black shoes against the marble floor filled Ciel's ears like the beating of a drum. Each one summoned up a deep, resentful feeling that twisted and slithered within Ciel's core. As he suddenly felt the soft touch of slender fingers against his shoulders, and the presence of a torso mere inches from his back, the sickness in his gut constricted. He closed his eye, taking in that gentle presence with a poisoned resentment. The emptiness in his heart widened once again, and the sorrow overflowed, refusing to acknowledge a small fraction of warm comfort he felt from the simple gesture. The horrible knowledge of the real Sebastian plagued him, knowing that this gentle expression was nothing more than a fantasy, cloaking the wicked demon that watched him as he was plunged into Hell.

He jolted his shoulder out of that accursed hand, and hissed angrily, "Don't touch me."

Ciel crossed his arms over his chest, as if to tame the fierce burning within. He stared at the wall, unable to decide what to make of this realm. If it was truly a dream, then the Sebastian who now stood opposite of him was unaware of the reality that Ciel was forced to experience every hour of every day. However, the vengeful will he contained within was anxious to inflict every horror he could think of upon that wretched, beautiful face. Every moment of his own agony slithered within his veins, and the void within him made him quiver with misery.

The Sebastian who stood behind him seemed a little bemused, as he said, "Is there something that troubles you?"

"You are," Ciel said gruffly, "Leave me alone. You're not welcome here."

"Not welcome?" Sebastian's footfalls as he approached, "And why is that?"

Six years of contained pain and rage exploded from within Ciel's core. The fragments of his life and sanity stabbed him all at once, sinking deep into his psyche. The wrath within him boiled over, and he felt the heat within his face rise and his knuckles turn white, as he said through gritted teeth, "You dare ask me why?!"

Suddenly, Ciel's wrath was quelled by a cool wave of sweet serenity. As gentle slender fingers softly touched his shoulder, he felt as if a bucket of fresh cold water had fallen upon the fires that raged deep with him. His mind swam in a grey haven, as if intoxicated by the simple touch of the demon's hand. Unable to focus, Ciel's body swayed slightly, and he fell back against Sebastian's torso, his breath shallow and calm.

Those fingers softly coursed through his hair, causing a strange sensation to tingle along Ciel's scalp. The indescribable feeling filled his traumatized mind with a deep calm that soothed him. His head lolled gently, and he lightly groaned, "What… what is this? Ugh… I shouldn't have drank that soup. I feel dizzy."

Sebastian smiled softly, as he said, "Your hair is such a mess. Still tousled from sleep, isn't it?"

"Mmhm," Ciel nodded, his head lolling lazily, "Maylene didn't get to that part just yet…"

"Oh my," Sebastian chuckled, "Well, allow me to remedy that."

Ciel complied without rebellion, allowing the demon's hands to guide him over to a chair sat before a mirror. His head swam in that thick grey haze, and as he stared at the reflection of himself and the black clad demon that stood behind him, he felt the image shift in and out of focus uncontrollably. He tried to concentrate on the darkest visage in the mirror; watching in a dreamlike state as the elegant demon picked up a silver object and began smoothing through the young man's hair with long delicate fingers. The feeling of those fingers along his scalp sent small bolts of soothing pleasure through Ciel's skin, and as he felt the small firm bristles of the brush begin coursing through his hair, he couldn't help but feel his eyelids get heavy.

"To think that it has been six years since we were last like this," Sebastian said, drawing the brush through the snowy tresses gently, "I must be horribly masochistic, to continue troubling myself with you."

Ciel nodded lazily with a miniature moan, which caused Sebastian's lips to curve in a subtle smile, though it fell again, as he mused, "How is it possible to loathe someone so much, and yet feel so compelled to please them?"

His hand passed over the boy's head once more, pulling his hair to one side, "Humans are such complex creatures. You exist in a blink of an eye, are born weak and dependent, and your greed knows no bounds. You declare ownership of everything, and though your bodies can not stand the simplest of elements, you spend them on the most trifling of matters. It's absurd that I hold any compassion for you creatures, let alone a small example of their kind at it's most complicated."

The bristles of the brush passing through his hair was hypnotic, and Ciel simply stared into the mirror at the pair within, only able to focus on the feeling of the brush against his scalp and the soothing quality of Sebastian's voice. Sebastian continued, "I despise the fact that I feel obligated to please you. You force me to endure a complex contradiction that is, quite simply put, a headache. The very thought of watching you fall deeper and deeper into the darkness and corruption thrills my demonic nature, and yet, I feel this annoying need to reach out and catch you. At first, I had thought of it a habit merely engraved by the contract we shared, but as these years passed by, I continued to feel torn. I loathe you more than I can bear, but I want you more than I can stand."

"I know how you feel," Sebastian paused a moment, as Ciel's whispered words dissolved. After a few lingering moments, the brush once again resumed it's strokes.

Sebastian continued to brush in silence for a few moments, as if contemplating what he felt should be said next. He chuckled softly to himself for a moment, before he said, "If it were as easy as just giving into my darker desires, I would be able to have exactly what I want. If I were to finally act on my impulsions, I would have devoured you, mind, body and soul, and not spared a single morsel of you. Then you would have eternally belonged to me, and been a part of me. No one else could have ever taken you from me again."

The brush caught on a knot in Ciel's hair, and though the boy did not react with more than a small whimper, the demon paused, carefully smoothed out the problematic strands, and sighed softly, "However, if I had done that, then you would have ceased to exist forever. Whatever countless opportunities available to me would have been forever dispelled. I would never had been able to go back on what I had done, and so, to devour you was my most promising, yet most condemning option."

The brush swept down to the hairs on the back of the boy's neck, causing Ciel to tilt his head downwards to allow better access for him, "It was that thought alone that spared you that day, six years ago. Though my demonic side demanded I ravage you, my lingering compassion begged me to answer a couple questions that were plaguing me at the time. To please both sides of me, I kept you alive, and made you my own servant, in hopes that you would prove to me just how much I was worth to you."

The bristles bit in a little into Ciel's scalp for a moment, which caused the boy to whimper involuntarily. Sebastian's grip was a little tighter on the handle, as he said, "To think, a demon wanting to know his own value from his meal? It's as absurd as having an adoration for a cow. Also to know that such a cow was so stubborn and ungrateful to your efforts to please him, that he would spit in your face and refuse to exert any effort to please you…"

Ciel groaned for a moment, as the brush strokes became a little harder, ripping at the endings of his hair with a subtle angst, "Imagine my disappointment, knowing that my worst thoughts were proven correct. The thought that you only considered me as a tool, a thing to use at your disposal without consequence, something to manipulate to your heart's content until the day you just were removed from existence. Even a dog gets some respect, a bone for their efforts, but not I, I get scorn and disrespect. My demonic nature demanded that I punish you in the worst possible way for how you betrayed my expectations."

After a moment, the brush stilled, and a hand held against the boy's head as if suppressing the slight pain that remained from the tool's slight rampage. The demon looked down at his silent companion, feeling the soft wispy tresses of snow white hair beneath his fingers. His crimson eyes scanned the lucid form of the boy, who had suffered those past eight years in a Hell filled with blood, gore, abuse, vengeance, betrayal, pain, death, fear, paranoia, and loss. The sight of him, so calm and serene after seeing his face twisted in rage and body shivering in fear and wrath every time they had met, made him feel that lingering contradiction once again. He put the brush down upon a table, and softly combed his fingers through those snowy locks.

"You accused me of openly dishonoring your memory," Sebastian said, "and yet, it was preserving you that was on my mind back then. I could have made any house our sanctuary, but I chose the one you knew all your life, feeling that you would be most comfortable there, in a place where you and I belonged once before. I did secure your legacy by inheriting your father's visage, but had I truly wished to humiliate you, the face I would have worn would have been, by far, much more familiar. Would Sebastian Michaelis have greeted them with a shamed Ciel Phantomhive as his butler? Should I have revealed our pact for the world to see, and let them all know your sins and allowed them to know your ultimate punishment? Or perhaps, should I have made myself Ciel Phantomhive and impersonated you, for you to watch as I completely stole every element of your former life away? I could have done so much to truly humiliate you and drive you into the furthest darkness of Hell…"

He walked around the chair, kneeling down on the floor to look up at that delicate face. His crimson eyes scanned over it as if searching for something hidden within that sleeping sapphire eye, as he said softly, "I do so much for you, and yet you shun and blame me for everything unfortunate that ever befalls you. Why is it then, that I must suffer as you suffer?"

Sebastian sighed heavily, "I suppose my foolishness came at my own expense. Punishing you by letting you live in the Hell you chose forced me to sacrifice my own reward. I did not factor in the thought that you might destroy your own soul to spite me."

The demon tilted the boy's chin slightly, and leaned in close, brushing his lips softly against Ciel's light warm skin, breathing in the scent of him, tasting the essence that lay beneath the flesh. He sighed with a pained disappointment as he paused mere millimeters from the boy's mouth, and withdrew, dropping his hand to rest on his knee, "As I suspected. Only salt remains. The flavor of the perfect soul that haunted my tongue is gone now. The only thing that resides inside of you now is a shadow of what you were before… locked in a struggle between sanity and madness."

He reached up one hand to lightly caress the boy's forehead, brushing away his bangs from his eyes, "Why did I ever expect you to abandon your pride for my sake? I should have known from experience that such a thing was not possible… but somehow I foolishly believed that I was worth more to you. It's quite a humorous concept, isn't it? My suspicions were punctuated that night when Grell's chainsaw met me and you left me for dead."

His eyes dimmed slightly, as he looked down for a moment at the boy's chest, watching as Ciel exhaled and inhaled slowly, "No, I suppose it wasn't then. Rather, it was three nights before that, that I knew my worth, and my place within your eyes. Hearing your words were enough to remind me of my rightful position in this world, not as your companion or your owner, but as your tormentor. However, I still couldn't bring myself to finally end our farce, for fear of those last lingering possibilities for you to prove me wrong, or for me to exact my punishment upon you, and make you feel the same pain I felt."

"I was desperate to confirm that I was indeed worth more to you, and yet, the answer I got was enough to finally defeat my sympathy, and please my demonic nature," he looked up at that one blue orb that, though drifting in and out of focus in an intoxicated state, still stared into his own with a deep sadness contained deep within, "Watching you being carted away was my own punishment for my foolishness. It was to my own shame that I couldn't be a proper keeper, nor could I remain level headed when something so predictable as your betrayal occurred. I let Grell get the better of me, as I was too concerned with you to focus on what was happening around me. The distraction of the ultimate contradiction in my head blinded me; part of me wanting you dead for your treachery, another piece of me wanting to punish you for how you got the better of me, and another fraction focused on your safety, knowing the cruel madness that Grell would unleash on you the moment you were no longer in my care. Lost in my own confusion, I was beaten down and left to die in the rubble of my own failed experiment."

Ciel's lips slightly moved, and Sebastian paused, as he saw them whisper something along the lines of, "You scared me."

"Scared you?" Sebastian scoffed slightly, his fingers tilting the boy's chin up, "For that to be the basis of your betrayal is rather petty. Had I truly given into my temptations, being frightened would have been the least of your worries."

"No," Ciel whispered, as he reached down and lightly grasped Sebastian's hand, bringing it to rest against his chest over his heart, "You scarred me."

The boy's hand fell away to rest on his sides sleepily, leaving the demon's hand to rest alone. Sebastian reached over with both hands to carefully unbutton the deep blue jacket and the dress shirt beneath. He gently parted the fabric, and exposed the snowy flesh beneath, which bore hundreds of minute scars in many different shapes and lengths. The memory of the fragile, flawless skin flashed within the demon's mind and sparked a small tremor of sympathy, as his own fingers gingerly traced a few of the risen lines. Some were in the shape of crosses or stars, others were thin lines, or thick, long curves. As he moved more of the fabric towards the shoulders, he revealed more evidence of six years of brutal cruelty. The mysterious origins of his abuse had carved their memory within the boy's flesh, and the more Sebastian beheld them, the more he felt his cold serenity tremble with irritation. He recalled Ciel's frenzy, as he opened his shirt and screamed at him, "_Scars do not lie!_"

Then, he did not have the opportunity to actually examine the boy's map of pain, but as he traced every line, he knew how much the boy had suffered. He unbuttoned another button, and finally discovered a fresh wound; a thick, yet shallow line that lay above one of the boy's lungs. The knife that was used must have been twisted slightly and stabbed a few times, for the lines were multiple. Sebastian looked up at Ciel's face, and noticed that it was flushed lightly, eyebrows furrowed in pain, with breath quickened. He looked back down at the wound, and lightly pressed his hand against the boy's chest.

Ciel's mind spun for a moment, and he tilted his head back in a loud cry, as the feeling of his flesh being cauterized gripped him fiercely. The demon's palm burned him down to his core, and it shocked him out of his dreamlike state for a brief moment with a roar of intense agony. Sebastian finally removed his hand, and the wound was gone, replaced with a small bundle of lines. Ciel breathed deeply, and tears slipped free from his empty eye, rolling down his cheek.

Sebastian softly brushed his tears away, and said, "Perhaps next time, you will rethink your options."

"Perhaps next time," Sebastian sat up in attention, and turned to look over his shoulder, as Ciel's voice came from elsewhere, containing a bitter, wicked tone. Standing with his back against the doorway, and dressed in a deep red and black outfit, swinging a black and silver walking stick back and forth lazily in one hand, was Ciel Phantomhive, and his eye, burning with a deep maliciousness and poisonous victory, glowed bright crimson, "You won't be so stupid as to venture in places were you don't belong."

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Chapter 31! Finally done, and Happy New Year everyone~!

This chapter had so many rewrites, it wasn't even funny, but I figured that this one was a much better idea. It has also been broken into THREE parts, so this chapter doesn't make much sense now, but it'll make lots of sense after the next part.

So, for a brief explanation until next update, because this chapter's a little confusing; Ciel drifted off to sleep and awoke in an alternate reality (or did he?) and experiences life as a servant if the others were still alive. Sebastian infiltrated this sweet dream and basically drugged him to explain to him some key things in a much more calm environment than before (Ciel freaking out on him wasn't exactly a rational explanatory session.) AND HOLY, DID I SEE AN ADMITTANCE?! The next chapter will probably answer the following: What was his motivation for this if he doesn't have a soul? Who was that other Ciel with the red eye? Why wasn't this done to explain things beforehand? (before you ask, yes, there is a reason why this wasn't done before.)

I must apologize if people seemed a little more talkative than in the series, but I tried my best here… the servants got a little bit of limelight this time, instead of a tiny cameo. I had a little bit of fun, writing each scene (most fun with Finny, who's really cute in his own way.)

This one was quite a change; a little more uplifting then the last couple chapters, which have all been very dark and gory. Lots of blood, abuse, and stuff. I couldn't help it, but picturing the "drugged" state Ciel made me think of BOOMCHICKAWAWA time a little too much while I was writing the scars part. Maybe I'll do a doujin of that? Mwha… anyway, seriousness installed, writing this more tender piece was a nice shift in gears, though the next chapter promises a lot more issues ahead. ^^ Cuz I'm that wicked. And, I will be releasing a couple illustrations of the next chapter soon too.

Songs that were used for this chapter's development were: Tango de Roxanne from Moulin Rouge, Somewhere by Within Temptation, Snow White Queen by Evanescence, Broken by Seether and Amy Lee, and What's This? By Flyleaf (which mostly applies to the first part of this chapter).

Look forward to the next chapter sometime next week! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews, faves, and for dedicating your time to reading my fiction!


	32. Chapter 32: Action ou Vérité

_My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners._

_They say there will be a second season! This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series involving Ciel, Sebastian, and the others of the first season, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses._

_In case you may be wondering; Action ou Vérité _is _Truth or Dare_ in French.

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**-32-**

**Action ou Vérité**

The once peaceful atmosphere of the dressing room had become tainted with a suffocating sense of foreboding. Sebastian studied the crimson clad intruder, as it watched him intently with one glinting garnet eye, the fires of hell flickering within it menacingly. It viewed him with cruel prejudice from within it's porcelain harbor, fringed by snowy white hair that hung down around the face in light feathers. This soft mane was adorned with delicate silver chains, small garnets, and black obsidian glass beads that swung to different parts of his hair, clipping to the snowy locks to secure a large silver ornament that Sebastian recognized as a symbol he knew all too well; a five pointed star within a barbed circle.

The boy's lips were curved in a thin sly smirk, parting them to ask, in a rather coy voice, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's impolite to walk into someone's house uninvited?"

He let the staff slip through his fingers, striking the floor with it, "How very bold of you, and yet, how incomprehensibly stupid. I never would have thought you to be the type who would follow me into the depths of Hell, just to prove a point. Though, I'm quite flattered that you decided to visit me in the flesh this time. Illusions can be so frustrating, not to mention quite cruel when you crave getting your hands upon the real thing."

Noticing that he had inspired a glimmer of alert to run through those twin crimson orbs, the edges of that small smile curved further into a wicked smirk, "Oh yes. I know that this time it really is you, my dear demon. Only the genuine Sebastian is capable of hurting me so much with a single press of a finger. It was very noble of you to heal me in the most painful way possible, but I must tell you that was quite a mistake on your part. It gave me a moment to really open my eyes and see the truth behind this stupid façade."

He touched the knob of his cane, a silver skull, against his cheek, tilting his head slightly to the side, his eyebrows bent slightly with an air of discontent, "However, I'm rather disappointed that you aren't exactly overjoyed to see me."

Sebastian watched the boy fixedly, though an intrigued smile played subtly at the corners of his lips, "I did not expect to stay long, nor did I think that I would be having such a conversation with you. I suppose I shouldn't expect a warm welcome then, since it is rather obvious your opinion of me is less than favorable."

"Oh," The boy's voice suddenly possessed a positive tone, as his eye widened slightly in surprise, "Actually, quite the opposite. I was hoping that we would get a moment to speak in a civilized manner."

The sound of heels clicking against the floor reverberated off the walls as the crimson clad Ciel strutted towards the kneeling demon, striking his cane upon the floor, "And I'm quite interested in hearing your explanations. However, I'm also rather disappointed that you think it necessary to sedate me, instead of talking to me rationally."

"Well, not to offend you, but the last few times we have spoken have been nothing less than unrefined," Sebastian said, before soft slender fingers touched his chin and brought his face to look behind him at the chair. In place of the serene sapphire clothed Ciel, now sat the devilish doppelganger, leaning forward and resting one arm on his legs, which were crossed at the knee.

"You're absolutely right," Ciel's lips curved into a soft smile, which Sebastian noticed held a flavor of wickedness that was highly suspicious, "I must admit, I've been very savage towards you every time we've met. Perhaps I should apologize. It's below me to act so crude, don't you agree?"

Sebastian took a moment to study the boy's new visage, as the boy sat up straight, staring down at him. A black diamond collar was first to draw his attention, which held a tiny silver skull that sat a little left of center, a half bow hanging from it as it secured the accessory about his slender neck. Black torn lace fanned over bare milky flesh, connected to a deep crimson jacket. This violent raiment had twin pointed lapels, long sleeves that flared partially at the hand, with black ripped lacy fabric cascading down from beneath the ebony trim upon the cuff. Many silver accents and accessories adorned the lovely coat; across the chest spanned two chains, which connected to a large silver brooch, which Sebastian noticed had an embossing of the Demon's Contract upon it's surface. The jacket connected with two black straps that stretched over a piece of his torso, locking into place on both sides with silver clasps that resembled arrowheads, which were the main theme of the garment, decorating as black trim that would turn into fancy, yet deadly looking spikes. The jacket coyly revealed a bare slender stomach, on which more black aged lace flirtatiously fanned over. The lace trailed down the trim of the jacket, until it turned into a heavy tattered piece of fabric, which hung long from the jacket around the back, behind twin coattails that ended part way down the thigh. Black shorts adorned the boy's lower half, though they covered little more than the boy's hips. They maintained the same theme as the jacket, their hem cut in a manner resembling the crown-like spikes that were embroidered upon the jacket. Scarlet trim and lines ran up between each arrow, and two crimson belts with silver buckles; one, a patch of briar with a cluster of roses, while the other was a skull and two gravestones, wrapped about his waist and hung off the hip just so. Two ornate garters encircled the boy's thighs, connected to twin straps with silver clasps that ascended to unknown origins beneath the boy's shorts. Black knee high boots wrapped about the boy's calves, also carrying on the violent tradition with the same spike inspired theme, secured with belts, and tall, thin, five inch crimson heels that gave the boy a somewhat taller appearance, though he still remained, in truth, considerably shorter than Sebastian.

It wasn't until his second brief consideration, that he noticed something peculiar peeking out from beneath the undecorated side of the jacket. A large reddened patch of skin, an eight year old burn, that had somehow shifted from it's original location to spread somewhat greatly over a large portion of his skin. He narrowed his eyes slightly in contemplation.

Sebastian's attention was redirected, as the silver skull touched his chin and lifted it up to look up the shaft of the walking stick and into that simmering garnet. The boy's face was slightly frigid, as he clicked his tongue and said, "It's very rude to stare."

"I apologize if I've offended you," Sebastian bent his head slightly in apology, playing along with the devilish aristocrat's game, "but one does not dress in such a way, if one doesn't expect people to stare."

"That's very true," Ciel mused, before he tapped the side of his face lightly with the skull that rested upon his cane, "However, I have something in the back of my mind that has been troubling me… what, oh what, could it possibly be?"

Sebastian watched the boy's attitude, continuing to study him. The boy's behavior was strange; though haughty, it bore a strange overabundance of bizarre attitude that Sebastian found quite peculiar. The Ciel that sat before him seemed to possess an obscure confidence that seemed to surpass that of his former self. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but there was something to this boy that seemed vicious and tainted, and it wasn't just the garnet iris that was searching the ceiling for the answer to his rhetorical question.

"Oh yes," he crossed his arms, his eye flashing with a wicked red flame, "In all of your enlightening explanations, you seem to have forgotten a few events… and I would just LOVE to know your reasoning behind them."

"Did I?" The demon asked, slightly arching one eyebrow.

"Yes," Sebastian looked at one of the boy's hands as it slid away from it's perch upon the silver skull. He watched as two slender fingers walked up that crimson raiment, and grasped a hold of a long, curious silver ornament, which Sebastian finally recognized with an odd sinking feeling deep in his core. Glinting wickedly, surrounded by torn and darkened fabric, and embedded deep into the boy's shoulder, was a long, slender silver letter opener. The boy's lips were curved in a knowing smile, as he tapped his fingers against the cold metal, watching as the demon's silence slightly satisfied his personal need for vindication, "you certainly did."

After a moment of silence, a look of enlightenment graced the boy's delicate face, and his eye widened with a look of sheer brilliance, as if he had conjured up the answer to everything in one fell swoop. Smacking his hand against the skull, and gripping it once more with a slight twist, he announced, "I have the perfect solution to our problems here!"

"Is that so?" Sebastian asked, carefully studying the youth's face, "and what exactly would that be?"

"How about we play a little game?" Ciel netted his fingers, supporting his chin upon them as they rested on his kneecaps, "Truth or Dare. The object of the game is to either answer honestly, or carry out the dare to the fullest, depending upon your selection. We'll both go back and forth, taking turns respectively, and perhaps that way, we can be somewhat civilized, and still get what we want from each other. Sound fair?"

Sebastian finally spoke after a moment of careful consideration, "Will you honor your rules?"

Ciel smirked, leaning forward, "You might not notice it, Sebastian, but you are in no position to make demands of me. It's one thing to manipulate a person with fictitious visions involving the people and places they desperately long for… it's another to do so and get caught."

"Whoever said that this was fictitious?" Sebastian asked, "You are rather quick to make assumptions, aren't you?"

"Assumptions?" Ciel laughed, "Sebastian, do not play me for a fool. This whole 'reality' of yours is nothing but a sham. A very nice construction, but nevertheless, it's a lie, and a joke that you think I would fall for it. You just used an old fantasy of mine against me to make me calm, so that you could install your side of the story into my head, and I would have no choice but to listen to you."

"Yet you seemed convinced," Sebastian retorted, "or am I assuming that your weak statements of 'it's not real' while you were holding Finnian were what you really felt were the truth?"

That single garnet eye widened with a brisk flare of anger; a reaction which caused Sebastian to chuckle softly with slight amusement. The boy scowled, and crossed his arms arrogantly, drumming his fingers impatiently against the sleeves of his jacket, "So, do you want to play the game or not?"

"Very well," Sebastian nodded, "Let's play."

The crimson Ciel possessed a bright spark of victory as his game was accepted. Sebastian's eyes widened a little in surprise, as the boy's lips curved into a wide, wicked smile, flashing a set of dazzling teeth in a rare display of sheer joy and anticipation of what was to come. Blinking a few moments with curiosity, the demon prepared himself for the inevitable challenges that awaited him with an amused smile of his own.

"Alright then," the boy leaned back into his chair, rolling his shoulders slightly, "Often enough, it's common courtesy for the guest to go first. However, given the circumstances of your rude intrusion, and your behavior as treating this place as your own, I will go ahead and take the guest's position, if you don't mind?"

Sebastian nodded politely, "Of course."

"Good," his eye was once again graced with a brief flicker of mischief, "Truth or Dare?"

The demon paused for a moment, before asking, "Am I to choose then?"

"Yes," Ciel rolled his eye slightly, "You're supposed to select either option."

After a moment of deliberating, and purposely taking his time considering his selection just to test the boy's patience, Sebastian finally selected, "Truth."

"Perfect," that look of victory seemed to claim that wicked garnet almost immediately after those words left the demon's lips. Sebastian, however, placed a temporary hold on the interrogation, which caused that flicker to immediately shift into a dark, impatient look of anxious anticipation.

"However, I must ask," he watched as the boy glared darkly from being interrupted, "What are the consequences should I not answer you truthfully?"

"Oh," the boy sat back in the chair, looking at him from beneath a half closed lid, "Simple. Lie, and I'll cut off your hands."

"My," Sebastian covered his mouth in mock surprise, "such a violent consequence. However would you know if what I tell you is the truth?"

"I would know," the crimson clad youth began twisting a small lock of white hair about his fingers out of boredom, "because it would be the answer that I don't like."

"So you are insisting I break your rules, just to please you?" Sebastian asked, a small smile playing on his lips as the garnet eye roved over to him with a wild stare, impatience quivering inside it fiercely. The amusement he had from this reaction continued to spark his interest in the private game he played within his own head: _Just who, or what, was this child? _

"I'm insisting that you play the game," he replied in the sternest voice possible, "before I grow bored with you."

"And if I refuse to play along?" Sebastian inquired, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"It'll be the same as if you decided to lie to me," Ciel's eye flashed dangerously, "only I'll rip off that bloody face of yours instead."

"Since I would rather keep my face where it belongs," the demon smiled, "please, ask your first question."

The boy waited a moment before beginning, which the demon found quite curious, since the boy's impatience seemed to be severely limited, compared to his past self. He stroked his chin in study, eyes trained on the youth's habits. He noticed something also odd about the child's mannerisms; he seemed to have a slight twitch that occurred in random places. Sometimes his right shoulder would jolt, only slightly, and quicker than the normal human eye could catch. Same would happen to his left shoulder, his fingers, or his foot, which rested on his knee, tapping slowly as he considered his first question.

"My first question," Ciel repeated, before he stood up and began walking about the room in a slow orbit around the demon who knelt on the floor patiently, "Six years ago, when you took me to that hallowed place, the one where it was to be our final destination, you looked me in the eyes and said that it was there that you were to offer me death. I accepted it, and when you said that you'd spare me the pain, I said that I wanted it you to engrave it all into me with as much pain as you can manage. So, tell me the truth, and do not lie: Was this whole thing just you carrying out my request?"

Sebastian was silent for a long moment, searching inside himself for the answer to the rather unexpected question. In truth, he did not fully consider that as a possibility, and it rather surprised him that the youth had thought of it himself. However, he himself knew the complicated, yet painfully simple truth. It was a matter of wanting to disclose such information to the venomous youth. No, he deemed it much more amusing to play with the child a little while first, and see just how his rather curious behavior progressed.

"Yes and no," the demon said simply, which, to his own amusement, caused the boy to suddenly stop mid-step, and slowly turn his face to look at him, eye comically wide and blazing, with lips tightly pursed, waiting for the second half of the explanation. When only silence provided the conclusion to the response, the boy was far less than amused.

"… That is not enough," Ciel said flatly.

Opting to toy with the boy to see this humorous reaction further, Sebastian tilted his head slightly, "It isn't? I answered you truthfully, you never said I had to go into detail."

There was a threatening strike against the marble floor which reverberated off the walls sharply. The walking stick's silver spear-like tip chipped the flooring, and the knuckles that encased the silver skull were white. His fingers twisted about it impatiently, as he said, "Allow me to explain something to you, Sebastian. Wit will be getting you nowhere with me. Play the game correctly, or I'll make sure you'll suffer the way I really want you to suffer. You may not realize it, but since I've found you, you're trapped in here with me. I'm being very fair to you, playing a nice game, so I suggest you not mock me, and be grateful for what I'm doing for you."

"Grateful?" Sebastian scoffed, "So it is a word in your vocabulary, is it? Whatever happened to being civil towards one another? Or are you demonstrating that you are a hypocrite?"

"You're testing my patience," the tip of the cane began burrowing it's way into the marble floor, as the boy clenched his fist angrily and twisted the skull like a doorknob.

"Oh, am I?" the demon inquired, "Do you have somewhere to be? If I'm preventing you from prior engagements, then please, accept my apology. Otherwise, why, may I ask, are you so anxious?"

That eye seemed to grow impossibly wide within it's harbor, as if it was about to abandon the boy's face. Sebastian waited patiently, undetectably defensive, in case the boy was about to thrash out at him. However, those small rigid shoulders relaxed, and the crimson clad youth tossed his head for a moment, before he sighed and said politely, "From now on, please answer the questions in a little more detail, if you could."

"Very well," Sebastian nodded, truly entertained by this absurd behavior, "I will try my best from here on."

"Good," the boy said, continuing his orbit, "Your turn."

"Very well," Sebastian said, before he inquired, "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Ciel chose, stopping and turning to face him, waiting with both hands neatly folded over the skull knob of his cane.

"Tell me the truth," the demon recited, "when you were on the boat in the harbor the day London was engulfed in flames, you traded your family ring away to a sailor for passage to shore. A poor stranger with no connection to you in any way, other than being upon the same vessel as yourself. So, when I produced that ring as my evidence to kinship with your family, with the intent of convincing others that I was a Phantomhive so we could keep the house and all your possessions, you became utterly deranged. So, my question to you is: why did you take such offence to _me_ possessing your ring?"

"_Tsk tsk,_" the crimson Ciel shook his head, with a slight sigh, "Sebastian, that's such a waste of a question. You know the answer already, I'm certain I've screamed it enough at you."

"Yes, but I want to hear the absolute truth this time," the demon stood up at full height, "and I want to hear it in a more civilized tone, if you wouldn't mind. That is what we are here for, aren't we?"

"I suppose," the boy swung his cane to and fro, looking down at it with a bored expression on his face, "the truth is your ownership of that ring was a mockery. All of it; inserting yourself into my family, possessing my father's face, owning my ring… you may not have paraded me about naked on a chain, Sebastian, but it was all a cruel construct just to watch me writhe."

The devilish youth stopped, a very amused smile creeping up upon his face. He turned, and slowly sauntered up to him, striking the floor with his cane rhythmically, his heels clicking against the marble, "You say you have noble meanings behind your acts of 'compassion', but I know your true nature, Sebastian. Everything you do has a razor sharp double edge. You did things to please me, make your sweet _pet _feel comfortable in a familiar cage, but it's a cage that is still painted with the blood of pets that have been kept there before. I know you, _devil_."

He stopped inches away from the demon, looking up into those eyes with a dark, venomous stare, those delicate lips curved into a slight seductive half-smile, "That's what I was to you, wasn't I? Your own little stray kitten. Guts doomed for your violin's strings, yet you wanted to pet me just a couple weeks longer, isn't that right?"

Sebastian remained unfazed in expression, yet his mind continued to observe the boy's mannerisms with extreme scrutiny, taken a little off-guard by the boy's odd assertive behavior.

"I mean that in the most literal sense of the term," Ciel said, smirking wide with the cruel knowledge that dwelled within his core, waiting for the moment that it would finally be released into the air, "and I can tell from the look on your face that you know very well what I'm talking about."

Ciel laughed softly, taking a step away from the demon, "Well, one step at a time, shall we? Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Sebastian said.

"Ah, of course," Ciel sighed slightly, rolling his shoulders, "What to ask, what to ask… there's so many questions, and so little time to answer them all."

His fingers once again returned to the letter opener that lay embedded in his shoulder, running his fingers over it pensively. Sebastian watched as that mischievous glint winked at him occasionally as the light hit it, taunting him with the knowledge of it's origin. Finally, the boy spun on his heel, clicking his ankles together, smiling broadly before he asked, "I've felt many, many pains, Sebastian. Loss, physical pain, humiliation, betrayal…ah, mostly betrayal. Six years ago, if you were to ask me, what was the most painful thing I have ever felt in my life, well, I guess I would have stood there catatonic, and relied on you to usher them out from my presence. However, I now have a series of stories to tell, thanks to you. Six years of brutal abuse, delightful moments being thrown, chased, choked, jabbed, stabbed, sliced, prodded, punched, slapped, and burned… but the one, singular moment of true pain echoes throughout my mind every moment of every day. The day that you gave me a very special gift."

"Do you remember that night?" The silver knife flashed, cradled in Ciel's fingers, as he approached the demon, his lips curved in a sly smirk, "I know I do. I remember standing in the darkness of that kitchen, seeing those twin embers smoldering in the shadows. I can recall the chill in the air, and the way my bones rattled. I can just taste the thrill on my tongue when you caught me in the ballroom, and my shoulders still shiver with the very memory of your breath upon my ear, as you whispered with that silver tongue of yours four little words that just cut me to the core."

He stopped, and stood up on his toes, reaching his free arm up to wrap five slender fingers about the statuesque man's neck, lifting himself up a little to whisper in a soft, seductive, yet toxic tone, "_You belong to me._"

Though Sebastian's reservation remained untainted by the boy's cruel words, his curiosity was somewhat piqued. As that single garnet flashed with a look most mischievous, and those fingers fanned over the back of his neck, his eyes flicked back and forth between that silver shimmer of the blade protruding from the boy's shoulder, stroked by those five pale digits in a taunting fashion, and those soft pink lips that now possessed a fiendish smile.

The crimson Ciel bit his lip for a moment, anticipating the coming reaction, before he finally parted them to inquire in a sinfully dulcet tone, "Tell me the truth, and do not lie: When you carved your final mark upon my body, what was the first thing that popped into your head?"

Sebastian was quietly stunned. The combination of the wicked grin and the painful question summoned up an irritating feeling deep within his heart, like a dull ache. He dared not to raise his hand to his chest, and as he looked deep into that blood colored orb that watched him so expectantly, he felt an answer rise up into his throat on it's own. His own lips curved into a subtle smile, as the darkness that slid over his tongue took on the form of a cruel, simple, but satisfying truth.

"I will never let you go," Sebastian said.

Many silent minutes passed. The boy who stood before him was still. His fingers, white knuckled, were wrapped about the knife that protruded from his chest, as if they were prepared to yank it free from it's flesh and blood sheath. His eye bore a fire within it that danced violently, his lips were pursed in a thin line, and his head was tilted slightly. Despite the contained heat that radiated from the youth, Sebastian's demeanor remained unfazed, and he observed him intently, raising a finger to tap the side of his face thoughtfully, "Is something the matter?"

"HA!!" Sebastian paused, as waves of Ciel's laughter suddenly rang throughout the room. The boy doubled over, clutching his sides as if he had heard the grandest joke, and he shook with amusement, laughing heartily with a venomous air. He sank to his knees, and continued his rattle, placing his forehead against the tile and moving his head this way and that, shaking as if to rid himself of the humorous spoof that rode his shoulders and gripped his hair.

"Did something I said amuse you?" Sebastian asked, waiting patiently for the boy to cease his insidious laughter. For a brief moment, however, he thought he saw the dressing room suddenly shift; from it's ethereal white and blue, to a violent red and black frame that blinked in and out of view for a millisecond, before the room reverted back to normal, and the boy remained on the floor, laughing hysterically.

"Oh," Ciel looked up through his messed white bangs, "I just find it amusing how I never would have expected you, my dignified former _dog _to be so territorial of his belongings. Especially one so broken and neglected as I. Furthermore, I'm glad that I survived your metal kiss, because then I got to survive long enough to see you get a taste of my own revenge. I wonder, dear _beast_, was Grell's kiss just as sweet as yours?"

"You refer to me so distastefully," Sebastian said with a small sigh, "I planted that blade into your body with the intent of defeating your escape. Abandoning one's master is an unforgivable sin of a butler."

Suddenly, there was an explosion of laughter, which erupted from the youth's throat like a whirlwind. Twisting a little and clutching at his sides, Ciel looked up at the demon with a fire in his eyes; a new dark flame that held within the searing red heat of dangerous vengeance.

"If I deserved a blade in my chest for leaving you to rot," Ciel said darkly, "I wonder what kind of punishment I should give you, for all the cruelty you inflicted on me? Haunting me for six long years… tormenting me, raping me, hurting me, taking away everything from me, teasing me, taunting me, leaving me to rot with that reaper, allowing him to hurt me and torture me, devouring my charge, shunning me, lying to me, sedating me, tricking me, torturing me. All the endless nights of fear, paranoia, nightmares, ghosts, and pain, all because of you, my dear Sebastian. So what, oh what, would be a suitable penalty for you?"

"Are you forgetting?" the boy raised an eyebrow as the demon spoke, "You sold yourself to me. What I did to you, you brought upon yourself. If you had been efficient, hard working, patient, obedient, respectful, resourceful, and compassionate about your position, you would not have suffered so badly."

"Is that so?" Ciel's voice held a tremor to it that was somewhat alarming, for it sounded similar to a suffocated scream, "I remember things differently, _beast_. You say I brought it all upon myself? I did work with a similar passion at one point. I poured so much effort into your meal, and every single course, you dashed my efforts to dust. So, Sebastian, you're lying if you're saying my life would have been different based on my attitude."

"Oh?" Sebastian remained calm, despite the fact that the room was now more frequently blinking back and forth between the violent red and serene blue scenery, "Effort? I know for a fact that you had Grell help you, and what's more, it wasn't the preparation that I critiqued, but your behavior. The hatred in your eye as you glowered at me, shaking from your bottled wrath at the very thought of your fiancée having dinner with me. Considering it a mockery rather than an opportunity for you to see her again."

"Don't you DARE make this look like my fault!" Ciel screamed, his voice at a pitch that one could swear would have ripped the wallpaper that lined the room, "YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DID THIS TO ME!"

Sebastian watched, his body remaining still and statuesque, as the youth stormed violently, "I did not ask you to spare me, devil! Did I not say, that I wanted death?! I made my choice, and you chose for me! You enslaved me, tortured me, punished me, forced me to witness a bastardization of my former life, and then you think it is in your power to sink a blade into my flesh, because I wanted to be free of you?!"

The demon's eyes partook in a rather curious display of emotional chaos, as the youth continued to unleash his verbal wrath. As he recited his six years of torment, his volume shook and shifted between piercing scream and loud whisper, and the more he thrashed in his own rage, the more Sebastian became curious of just what this youth was composed of. When two small rivers of blood began trickling down those snowy cheeks, Sebastian finally interjected, "Truth or Dare?"

"You still insist on this pathetic game?!" Ciel shot him a deadly look, his tears finally ceased, and his teeth clenched, "DARE!"

"Very well then," Sebastian said, taking a few steps forward, and kneeling down to the boy's level as he lay on all fours upon the floor, watching him with a deadly fury not unlike a rabid animal, "I dare you to reveal to me your true identity."

"What?" Ciel cocked his head to the side, his one garnet flashing with a vicious glint, "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"It's been troubling me for some time now, since you first arrived," the demon said, touching one curved knuckle against his lips, "but I can not exactly place my finger on it. At first, I thought you were merely his rage, but you've demonstrated quite a vast array of emotions since we've met, and I'm certain that you are something quite more fascinating than that. You have some sort of control over this area as well, though you have been loosing it quite frequently with your recent outbursts."

The youth recoiled a little, bringing his knees to tuck under him slightly, resting his palms on the floor, and his eye now held a look of alarm and suspicion, as if awaiting a trap to spring.

"The more I observe you, the more curious I get," Sebastian tilted his head to the side, before he reached out one hand to gently touch the side of the boy's face. Ciel hissed for a moment, withdrawing his face and torso away from him, though he did not alter his position. His eye remained locked on his own, watching for any sign of mischief. However, those light rose lips finally curved into a soft, sly smile, and he lifted himself up on his knees a little, crawling on his palms towards the sinfully beautiful demon that observed him with those dazzling crimson orbs.

"What am I?" Ciel's voice was an echoing whisper, as he reached out towards the demon, as if begging, "I am the pride and joy of any demon's twisted heart. Their wretched desires incarnated, and their darkest fantasy whilst they sleep. I am what every devil works so hard to reap, and the one who devours the souls of the corrupted and the innocent indiscriminately. I eat apples of sin for longevity, and I drink up sweet trauma for strength as if it was the Devil's ambrosia."

"You're speaking in riddles," Sebastian said, his tone kept honey sweet, as the boy rose on his knees, his fingers clutching the demon's pant legs, "is this on purpose?"

"I am in Hell, Sebastian," the demon's eyebrows rose slightly, as he noticed a sudden shift in the boy's behavior once more. That slender body began to quiver, as if suffering from slight chills that ran violently up and down his spine, and that deadly garnet simmered with a look of painful purgatory, framed by the tears of blood that stained his fair porcelain skin, dripping slowly.

"Every day, I'm engulfed in flames," Ciel whispered, his voice soaked in sensual poison, as it trembled almost breathlessly with masochistic joy, "I feel your cruel pins sink into my flesh, and it thrills me to the bone. I am possessed by you and your memory, and it drives me mad. Every shadow takes your shape, your crimson eyes condemn me to this rotting Hell, and when I think I can finally resurface, your cruel devilish tricks plunge me back under the waves. It's a sinful asphyxiation that fills my lungs with guilt and gore, and this sensation that you're always there, watching me, scorching me with your infernal eyes, has the very essence of Hell itself."

The demon's lips curved slightly, as he took in the almost helpless visage of the crimson clad youth, who knelt on the ground, staring up at him intently with pleading eyes, gripping his trousers with those slender pale fingers as if begging for salvation. That beautiful vision; the fallen, disgraced noble, kneeling to him in delicious submission. It was a sight to behold, and it tasted sinfully sweet upon Sebastian's tongue.

"You haunt me, tempt me, taunt me, damn me, pain me, drown me, watch me, torture me, plague me, devour me," Ciel whispered, his voice quivering, "And now this is what remains of me, as I rest in Hell, and burn in it's flames. Look at me, Sebastian. I am the product of your efforts, and your utmost reward. "

"And that is?" Sebastian asked.

He watched the boy slowly rise up from his kneeling position, staring deep into the demon's core with that singular smoldering ember, Hellfire crackling deep within that ruby stone laced with the most potent toxin. His delicate fingers walked up the demon's garments until he stood at full height, those slender digits taking into their grasp his silk black tie, stroking it alluringly. He tugged it down slightly so that Sebastian bent a little to look him in the eye. The boy leaned forward ever so slightly, so that his lips were mere inches from the demon's, as if he was prepared to lay a kiss upon the incubus's pale mouth, "What am I?"

Breathlessly, Ciel parted those rose petal stained lips once more to answer, "I don't feel like telling you."

After a few moments, a small giggle exploded from Ciel's mouth, as a wicked smirk graced those slender pink lips. He slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip in taunt, as he said, "Some secrets are not yours to own. What I am, is beyond your stupid comprehension, _beast_."

"Isn't that called cheating?" Sebastian looked a tad annoyed by the cruel trick, though he did not seem surprised in the least, "I don't find your answer very satisfying."

"Oh, that's too bad," Ciel jeered, "shall we go over the list of all the unfair affairs of this world?"

"No," Sebastian crossed his arms, "I just suspect that you yourself have no idea how to truthfully answer my question."

The laughter stopped, as Ciel tilted his head to the side, eye wide once more, "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I suspect that you have no idea what you truly are," Sebastian said, "so you're beating about the bush. You can describe yourself quite eloquently, yet you don't know for certain what exactly you are to answer me in the simplest of ways. You'd rather describe yourself as a creature who every demon longs for, and that devours souls. What am I to gather from your description other than you're a demon?"

"Then one would suspect that I am a demon," Ciel spread his arms, "Don't you think?"

As if overcome by his own illumination, the crimson clad youth gasped, and hugged his chest, laughing excitedly. He spun around in a little circle, chorusing, "I'm a demon! It's all so clear to me now! I'm a demon born from this dark Hell!"

Sebastian's lips curved in intrigue, as he brought his index finger to his cheek, "Do you truly believe that?"

Suddenly, Ciel stopped, hair teased by his wild dance so that it hung about his face haphazardly. His eye was wide with wicked joy, and his smile stretched from ear to ear, "What else could I be?! Such a revelation! Don't you think, Sebastian? I must have died and gone to this wicked Hell, where every moment is a twisted torture filled with pain and corruption! That is why you are here, isn't it? You belong here, so you've come to welcome me, isn't that so?"

Sebastian felt his lips curve more at the absurdity of the child's dark, delighted rant, and he brought his fingers up to his forehead, shaking his head slightly with a very slight bemused chuckle.

"Yes," Ciel sighed, his hands swinging at his side, his chest heaving with excited illumination, "that must be the answer. Grell must have been too tempted by the sight of my blood, and he couldn't resist it's allure, so he returned to finish the job."

He laughed shortly, shaking his head, "I bet he made me look like that whore we saw that day… that Mary Kelly. My heart was probably ripped out of my chest and cooked in a kettle, and my body, my poor, lovely body, it must have been skinned from scalp to toe. Since I have no soul, whatever was the essence that was keeping me alive then must have been the essence of a devil. Perhaps that answers your question from before, as to why I was still alive. I had a demon within me born of your betrayal, and all I needed was a good massacre to set me free."

Sebastian tapped his chin, momentarily entertaining this idea, before he saw that lovely face return to view, staring up at him, "So, is that why you're here, Sebastian? Come to torment me in a place most familiar to you?"

Though the demon was not foolish enough to believe the delusional child's fantasies, he knew well enough that he could manipulate them to his advantage. Beyond the crimson clad youth, the world continued to flicker between tame and wild, and there was a significant rise in temperature within the room. Sebastian was well aware that the ethereal realm embracing the pair was a façade, for he had constructed it himself in an effort to persuade the boy to listen to him peacefully without suspecting it to be a reality. It was increasingly interesting, however, to witness that violent flicker occasionally penetrate the light blue with visions of a macabre chamber. The mirages were too quick and random to catch much more than a fleeting glance, even for his superior eyesight, which only served to pique his curiosity. He knew that since his first negotiations had failed, he had quite a lot of work ahead of him.

Deciding that it was within his own interests to explore this shifting realm further, he shook his head, "As much as I know you would have appreciated the sentiments, I have come with other interests other than your torment. However, I would like to ask you for a favor."

"A favor?" Ciel wore a rather surprised and quite bewildered expression on his face, "What sort of favor?"

Sebastian bowed slightly in respect, placing his hand upon his heart in the traditional fashion, as he requested, "I've caught many frequent glimpses of this world of which you speak, but since I have only seen that of which I have constructed for you, I am quite curious as to what lies beneath the veil. So, I implore you, will you grant me permission to explore your realm by myself?"

Ciel was silent for a few moments, tilting his head to the side, monitoring the demon, as if searching for what dark ulterior motives lay beneath the request. As if tormented by the decision, Ciel began to pace back and forth. Sebastian watched curiously, as the boy started huffing slightly, and began nibbling on his thumbnail, debating whether it was wise or not to allow the demon free range within his personal ring of Hell. On one hand, the fact that the demon wanted to explore was more than enough to arouse suspicion. What intentions did he have? One by one, the numerous suspicions blossomed within his head. What damage could he cause? What did he intend on finding, and how could he use it against him?

He stopped and glanced over at the tall mirror that stood not too far off from him, and walked over to it, staring deeply into his own reflection, as if seeing himself for the first time. He lifted one hand up to his face, lightly touching his fingertips against the delicate porcelain skin, gliding them up to rest against his one open eye. The fires of Hell danced within that iris, and as that garnet drifted down to glance at the reflection of the man clad in midnight that watched him so intently, his own lips began to curve, as ideas began to form in his head.

"Be my guest," he said, turning about on his heel, "what harm could you do?"

Somewhat surprised by this outcome, Sebastian smiled slightly, "So, I have your full permission?"

"Of course," Ciel nodded, waving him off, "unless you'd rather I change my mind?"

"Thank you," Sebastian bowed once more respectively, as Ciel approached him, pausing to kick up his abandoned cane from it's resting place upon the tile.

The youth nimbly twirled it in his fingers, before he struck it against the floor, and rested both hands upon the silver skull, stating, "I suppose that it's only fair that I start you on your way."

He looked around at the serene dressing room, taking in the sublime vision of the luxurious silks, fine garments, and elegant furnishings, "This was quite a convincing construct, Sebastian. You never cease to amaze just how elegant and genuine your work can be."

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor echoed throughout the calm chamber, as Ciel approached the double doors of the dressing room, those slender fingers flirting with the promise of grasping one silver doorknob, "However, no matter how lovely it is…"

He turned and looked over at the demon, a wicked smirk on his lips, as he touched one hand against the side of his face, "It's all nothing but a fake."

Sebastian watched, as those slender fingers slid away from that face, and grasped a hold of that knob. Suddenly, black snakes began to creep from where he grasped the metal, devouring the silver and bleeding into the wood of the door. The black serpentine lines slithered over every surface, breaching the door frame and traveling over the walls, floor, furniture, and ceiling. The room began to crackle, and groan loudly with a threatening air, as the black lines began to glow with flecks orange and red. The wallpaper began to curl, blackened and singed, as those snakes ignited with tongues of flame. Sebastian watched where he stood, as the once serene dressing room became choked with thick grey smoke, and the flames devoured everything around them with a chorus of crackles and roars. Sections of the ceiling and floor gave way to the embers, falling down into black oblivions where grand rooms should have been, and a foul stench, coupled with the suffocating aroma of smoke, wafted into the room, momentarily causing Sebastian to lift one hand to cover his nose. The furniture became twisted, blackened, and charred beyond recognition, the windows shattered from the heat, scattering a rain of sparkling glass, and amidst all the chaos and decay, stood Ciel, arms outstretched, eyes closed, smiling with an air of euphoria, as the world around him was bathed in a violent, passionate glow.

Ciel exhaled, letting his arms drop to his sides as he turned around and threw open the double doors, which instantly splintered and fell apart into two piles of smoldering embers, revealing the darkened hall beyond. He took a few steps into that bleak realm, and turned around, lifting one hand up to beckon Sebastian towards him.

The demon beheld this spectacle with a glint of mischief in his crimson eyes. That boy, always so reserved, now gesturing towards him with a look that almost resembled madness. Following suit, he took confident steps forward, despite noticing that portions of the floor groaned in threat underfoot, planning to splinter apart and plummet whomever stood upon the wrong board into the black maw below. As he approached the doorway, Ciel laughed melodiously, and backed up against the wall. He waited there patiently, that infernal eye trained on the demon, studying him with a look of wickedness that Sebastian couldn't help but suspect. Cautiously, he breached the threshold into the hallway, and instantly, with a loud, terrible roar, the Hellish rendition of the dressing room was ultimately devoured by the fire. The ceiling beyond the doorway fell in, blocking off any access to the horrific inferno within, and a gush of intense hot air and ash crashed against Sebastian's back.

His eyes drifted to analyze the silent hall, and he noticed that both ways were choked with barriers of darkness. The section of hall they occupied was dimly lit by a single lamp, and it's small flickering flame only illuminated a small portion of the space. As he inspected his surroundings, his attention was redirected once again to the small figure who stood before him, still smiling wickedly as that single garnet observed him. Sebastian found this look reminiscent of a cat toying with it's prey, and he found it quite amusing, despite the obvious knowledge of just who was considered the unlucky prey within this infernal realm.

"So, which way shall you go?" Ciel asked, tapping one toe against the floor in wait, as if trying to rush the demon into a hasty selection.

"Since I can't see the end of either, I don't know where to begin. I don't suppose you have any suggestions of which path I should take?" Sebastian inquired, glancing both left and right once more.

The sound of Ciel's heels against the carpet echoed off the walls as he took a couple steps down the left stretch of hall, "It really doesn't matter which way you go. The results will be the same either way. I gave you free reign over wherever you'd like to wander, however, I must stress this one rule for you--"

He turned around, his eye darkly serious as he said, "-- Do not take anything."

Sebastian smiled, "Is that all?"

The boy nodded, "That's my only condition. Go ahead and enter wherever you please. Investigate to your heart's content! However, you can not take anything with you."

"Any reason regarding why?" Sebastian asked curiously.

"Should I retract your allowance to be here?" Ciel asked, tilting his head to the side, "Or shall I demonstrate the consequences to you personally?"

"My apologies," the demon bowed his head slightly in respect, though he was undoubtedly amused by the boy's annoyed expression, "I will not take anything."

"Good," Ciel said, as he struck his cane against the floor, as if punctuating his statement with a satisfying _thud_ against the carpet, "with that said, enjoy your visit."

He backed away from the demon, turning around to traverse the darkened hallway. He lightly hummed to himself, a tune that filled the hallway with an eerie aura. Lazily, he reached his hand out to lightly drift against the wall.

"I take it then that I will be wandering alone?" Sebastian asked the boy's back, though his eyes fell upon that delicate hand that glided along the pale wallpaper. Where that porcelain flesh caressed the wall, black lines bled out from beneath the pads of his fingertips, and began slithering over the walls, infecting it with crackling glowing embers and small minute tongues of flame.

"For now," Ciel responded, as the crackling of the fires grew louder, "though, I would watch which rooms you decide to enter. I do not want to be held responsible for whatever may happen to you."

"You need not worry about me," Sebastian smiled, as he watched the boy's form disappear into the maw of darkness, "One would almost suspect you've forgotten who I am."

Shaking his head, he decided upon taking the opposite path. As he traveled away from the lamp, the black snakes slithered ahead of him, igniting more fires and causing the halls of the Phantomhive mansion to decay and splinter. Though the realm around him became warped and alive with violent waves of heat and light, the path he took became quite illuminated. With every step he took, the darkness seemed to retreat a few feet ahead of him. However, he was unable to see much past a couple yards.

He passed several doors, though many of them were wreathed in tongues of flame, and rendered quite impassible. Beyond many of these splintered barriers, Sebastian could have sworn he had heard human screams, masked by the roars of the fires within. Through one of the destroyed doors, he caught a glimpse of some sort of shadow, twisting about in the smoke, as if they were writhing in pain. However, he did not bother to respond to them, choosing to stay on the path that the dark continued to reveal to him. His mind was focused elsewhere. He had much more pressing matters at hand than wasting his time over tortured spirits.

He should have expected this change in plans. Though his original intent had been to communicate with the boy in a sedated state where there would be no interruptions nor complications, he did not expect that he'd make such an inconvenient mistake. He had found it necessary to heal Ciel's wound, but in the process, he had awoken this strange persona that held some dark, twisted, sadistic joy deep within that calculating stare. Somewhere in this Hellish inferno, Sebastian knew that the child was lurking in wait, observing him, perhaps even anticipating a false step in the wrong direction to strike. This latent monster that had lain within Ciel's corrupted mind manipulated this place, and believed itself to be not only Ciel Phantomhive himself, but a demon. Though Sebastian smirked slightly at the irony of the thought, he couldn't help but feel a cautionary uneasiness.

This place truly did rival the human ideal of Hell. The more grotesque concept was that it was based on the truth. As the hallway was engulfed in flame and decay, and familiar sections of the house arrived into view, Sebastian sighed slightly with brief irritation, if not nostalgia, at the unfortunate state of the noble house. The rooms he had once polished and primed to a pristine shine were derelict and occupied by thick miasmas of ash and smoke, and tongues of orange flame. The fantastic urns that had been decorated with such lovely flowers from the gardens, arranged expertly by his hand, were blackened and cracked, and now housed bouquets of singed black weeds, curled from the intense heat and lack of oxygen. Though this place was truly a fantasy, the nostalgia that it invoked was no different from if it had been real. As crimson eyes roved over every inch of the decrepit hallway, ghosts from the past seemed to haunt him.

Once or twice, Sebastian was certain that he had seen flashes of someone peeking at him from around a corner, or running down the hall out the corner of his eye, to disappear into the black void behind him. Even with his superior sight, he was taking double glances. He suspected that he had seen a wisp of what looked like a child running from one room to another, but he had not been able to see it completely. He began to ignore these figments, dismissing them as merely distractions from the task at hand. Though thorough exploration was a necessity, the true task was severely time limited, and he knew that he had little time for such things as wondering just what these specters were, and checking every single room. He remained dedicated to his investigation, and navigated the endless hall expertly, dodging falling sections of ceiling, traversing frail or broken sections of the floor, and avoiding damage at the best of his ability, all the while accompanied by the flitting ghosts of the past that continued to spy on him from the corners of the darkness.

Eventually, he happened upon a single ajar door. He paused, glancing at it curiously. There seemed to be no scent of smoke, nor the taste of rancid decay radiating from this room. Cautiously, he pushed upon the door with a slight touch of his fingertips. The door creaked as it swung open, the light of the inferno that embraced the hallway bled into the darkened room, bathing it in a warm, orange glow.

It was a bathroom, and a rather small one in comparison to the one that actually lay within the belly of the Phantomhive manor. Sebastian looked around him, viewing the space around him with interest. Besides the other rooms that were deemed inaccessible, the fact that this one was somehow worthy of inspection gave him cause to suspect that there was something of some significance contained within the facility. The absence of scent and Hellish flame was even more suspicious, and as he stood in the middle of the bathroom beside a simple claw foot tub, his eyes scanned the room for any anomalies. Even though he found nothing strange about the simple bathroom at first glance, he couldn't help but find that this room was too ordinary. He walked over to the sink and counters that lined one section of the wall, twisting one of the faucets experimentally. Clean water flowed from the silver spout, filling the basin below without any sign of corruption. Even as he glanced up at the three mirrors that were hung upon the wall, he saw not a flaw in their craftsmanship. In a tainted world, how was it that this simple bathroom lay untainted?

Suddenly, he heard a little splash. He turned around, and saw that deep within the claw foot tub, huddled a lean figure, shivering uncontrollably. He narrowed his eyes slightly, before he took a few steps towards the pale figure, and noticed that it was indeed his former master, sitting in the tub, hugging his small shoulders as if he were weeping. Sebastian noticed that that beautiful pale skin was dotted with small and large garnets, and as he knelt down next to the porcelain rim of the tub and tilted his head to see beyond those matted bangs, Ciel began whispering to himself.

"_I watched a man die today. Grell killed him while I held him in my arms," _he said, his hands leaving his shoulders and running down his arms, smudging the garnets so that they formed long crimson streaks over the snowy terrain, "_He covered me in his blood. He calls it fashionable. I am angry. It makes us money, it buys us a house, it buys us food, it finances progress, it builds me an empire, it gives me power. I am happy. I'm coated in blood. His blood. Not mine. Tainted blood, messy blood. I'm so dirty_."

Sebastian watched the scene with eyes that bore a hint of sympathy. Ciel did not look back at him, nor did he respond at all to the demon's presence. As he smoothed his fingers over his arms, the water in the bath became tainted with a tint of red. His whispering continued, repeating what he had said over and over again, and as he spoke, his motions became slightly frantic, building in speed and roughness, as he pawed at the parts of his body where the blood continued to spread. Sebastian then noticed that the bath was now a deep, dark crimson, and that Ciel, in desperation to purify himself from the sinful blood, had begun to claw at his arms, drawing long streaks with his nails along his skin.

"_I'm so dirty, I'm so dirty, I'm so dirty, I'm so dirty…." _Ciel chanted, his voice quivering and escalating to a hushed scream. That beautiful flesh became coated in crimson, and that sharp, stinging blue, became wild with anguish.

Unable to permit more, Sebastian reached in, grasping a hold of the boy's arm before it could inflict more damage. However, Ciel suddenly twisted in his grasp, sloshing the bloody water everywhere, and lashed out with one clawed hand, his nails seemingly longer than they truly were, so that they resembled talons. Sebastian bent his head back, those claws barely nicking his throat and drawing away a slight line of crimson. The demon sat up straight again, and before he could do more, Ciel suddenly ripped his arm from the demon's grasp, and submerged under the water, as if something had grasped a hold of him and yanked him down beneath the bathwater's surface.

The demon stood up before the bloodstained bath tub, as the crimson water splattered over most of the small bathroom, painting it with a morbid badge of massacre. The liquid within the tub sloshed about violently, and then fell quiet and still. After a few moments, he peered over the rim, searching the water for any sign of the child's body, but the crimson water yielded little vision to what lay within. He knew it unwise, but he found no alternative. Shedding his black jacket and folding it up neatly so that it lay on a clean section of the floor, and rolling up his sleeves as far as they would go, Sebastian cautiously bent over the bathtub, and slowly reached one arm down into the water.

There was nothing there. He felt the bottom of the bath, and nothing more. There failed to be anything contained within the tub's belly, besides the dirty water, and as he withdrew his arm, stained light pink from the contents of the bathtub, he sighed softly with disappointment.

Then, pale, slender fingers emerged from the depths of the crimson bath. Sebastian watched, as they were followed by delicate hands, fragile wrists, long arms, and finally, a head, shoulders, and torso breached the bloody bathwater. With a loud, euphoric inhale, Ciel Phantomhive once again resided within the porcelain basin, though within that milk white face, speckled with fine garnets, glowed a single garnet orb, and his lips were curved in a delighted smile.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as the demon's eyes narrowed in slight annoyance.

"I wouldn't quite call it enjoyable," Sebastian commented, "though I do find it quite interesting. However, if the rest of the mansion is in this same state, I will probably tire of it soon enough."

Ciel clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, setting his small shoulders back against the porcelain, "That's a shame. I was sure my Hell would be somewhat impressive, but perhaps I'm not trying hard enough. I forget just who my audience is."

"I do not find it unimpressive," Sebastian smiled slightly, "it's quite tasteful, in some ways---"

"I don't quite understand what you were doing," Ciel said, cutting the demon off before he could finish his compliment. His attention was concentrated more on the condition of his nails, which Sebastian noted were normal length, though now were painted black.

"My apologies," Sebastian said.

"-- Why would you go and stop me from clawing myself apart? Don't I deserve it for what I've done?" The boy shifted so that his head rested on his arm, which lay upon the lip of the tub, "I thought you took it upon yourself to be my tormentor. Were you upset I was harming myself, and taking the honor away from you?"

"You are quite quick to make assumptions, aren't you?" Sebastian asked, his eyebrows relaxed, despite his reserved caution.

"Of course," Ciel said, sitting back and sliding his hands over one slightly raised slender leg, "that's what keeps me alive."

"Isn't it correct to say that it _kept_ you alive?" Sebastian inquired playfully, though Ciel did not acknowledge the correction, as he was too preoccupied with washing the red liquid over his knees.

After a few moments, Sebastian finally decided that he had had enough wasting time in the dismal bathroom, despite the 'pleasant' company. As he rose up on one knee, pale fingers suddenly grasped his chin, halting his ascension. One simmering garnet loomed before him, framed by matted milky bangs and one mischievous smile, as Ciel held him with his index and thumb.

"Oh dear," the boy exclaimed, leaning in, "I can't help but notice that you've got some red on you."

His hand left the demon's chin, and poked the skin just below the fine line of crimson that lay upon that slender neck. Catching a fine droplet of his blood upon his fingertip, Ciel lifted it up to show the demon. Sebastian brought one hand up to his throat, feeling the evidence of the minor damage that Ciel had inflicted. Though his cold eyes failed to betray the alarm that had blossomed within his chest, the demon could feel the little smile that graced those doll-like lips spark further awareness that he had best consider the boy with extreme caution.

"I suppose I should return the favor for healing my little infliction earlier," Ciel said, though he was busy admiring the demon's blood as if it were a precious stone embedded upon his finger.

Sebastian shook his head pleasantly, offering a reassuring smile, "I appreciate the sentiments, but I do not require your assistance. It will heal."

"Will it?" Ciel glanced at him with a wicked glint within that deep garnet orb.

"I'm certain," Sebastian bowed his head, though he took the opportunity to lift himself from the floor in the process, "Thank you, but there is no need to worry about my well being."

A melodious laugh filled the bathroom, as Ciel tossed his head back, covering his eye with one hand. Sebastian ignored this, as he took the cleanest towel from a basket upon the counter and cleaned off his bloodstained arm.

"I will remember that," Ciel said, hugging his knees to his chest, and resting his cheek upon them.

Sebastian cast a momentary glance at the boy, as he laughed one more time and reached down into the water, as if searching for something. The demon bent down, retrieving his jacket from the floor, and adorning once more. As he adjusted his garment to look more presentable, he turned around to see a rather alarming sight.

Ciel was chanting to himself again, only this time, he had a content smile upon his lips, his tone was calm and almost lyrical, and he was combing his fingers through a clump of wet, thick, black hair. Sebastian determined he had no time to inquire, and decided to take his leave as soon as possible.

He bowed respectively, stating, "As much as I enjoy our visits, I have other pressing matters to attend to."

"Do you?" Ciel inquired, bringing up the object he was playing with and inspecting it as if he were judging it's appearance. Sebastian instantly recognized it as a human head, and he wondered just who it rightfully belonged to. As if in response, Ciel once again resumed whispering to himself, saying, "_Last night was Antoine Rousseau; a drunken bastard who had his filthy hands all over me, groping at me and licking me, and then I got to see his eyes bulge out of his head as your mummy fed him her machine, and then I got to take a nice bath of my own in his blood. It was wonderful._"

Sebastian's eyes once again strayed to the mess of black hair that Ciel continued to comb through, realizing that his unfortunate thing was most likely the corpse of this Antoine Rousseau, and what's more, the choking miasma of rotting flesh filled the room. Covering his mouth with distaste, Sebastian reached his other hand for the door frame for support.

"Oh, Sebastian," Ciel pushed the corpse down under the water, and rested his arm against the lip of the tub once more, supporting his head with the back of his hand, "Tell the truth, what do you think about what I've become?"

The demon was silent for a moment, before Ciel continued, sitting back into the crimson water and lifting one leg up to hang over the rim, "I've been thinking about it since that day in Pigalle. You saw me then, didn't you? How that man looked at me. How most men and women look at me nowadays… I'm dying to wonder though, my former butler… Do you think I grew up nicely? Come on now, answer truthfully… we're still playing the game, aren't we?"

After a few moments, Sebastian smirked playfully, "Ah, but you failed to ask 'Truth or Dare', didn't you?"

Ciel glowered angrily, his nails biting into the rim of the tub, thoroughly vexed by the denial of an answer. He dropped his leg back into the water, and scowled, "I'll get my answer from you."

"And how do you plan on that?" Sebastian inquired, though he leaned in closer to the doorframe to make his exit.

"I have my ways," Ciel jeered, before he leaned back into the tub again, resting his head against his shoulder, "Oh, and Sebastian, let me know if you get lost. I wouldn't want my honored guest to wander about aimlessly from here to eternity because he refuses to ask for directions."

The demon nodded, offering a refreshing smile, as he exited the bathroom with a simple, "I will keep that in mind."

As he left the morbid room and it's resident behind, he couldn't shake the disgusting flavor that still resided in his mouth. At his back, Ciel's voice continued to whisper his blood soaked sins, and that failed to fade away for quite a long distance. Sebastian found that his senses were slightly dulled from the overwhelming stench, and he found it rather difficult to continue in such a state.

He staggered a little, resting his shoulder against one wall for a brief moment as he tried to recollect himself. All around him, the mansion continued to perpetually incinerate, and as he walked along the wall, his ears filled with the roars of the fire, groans of the house giving way to corrosion, and the masked screams of the tormented souls trapped within the inferno. All of it seemed to intensify, and Sebastian could swear that it was as loud as if it was being blared directly into his eardrums.

Suddenly, the brittle floor beneath his foot gave way, and the graceful demon experienced a rather ungraceful tumble into the oblivion below.

**† † † †**

Despite his unexpected fall, Sebastian twisted in midair, and landed rather cleanly upon a solid floor, though the surroundings that embraced him were solid black. Lost in the oubliette, Sebastian tried to adjust his eyesight so that he could cut through the darkness, but to his own surprise and irritation, his superior senses failed him. He shook his head, trying to clear himself of the horrid scent. After a few moments, it dispersed, and he was able to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand.

He mentally cursed the fact that this manifested world possessed the ability to defy logic. What's more, as he stood in the black void, he reflected on what had truly occurred back within that bathroom. Ciel was playing with him, that he was certain. What had seemed like a disturbing scene was instead a series of experiments on the boy's part. In acting so horrendously, and distracting him with idle chatter, the clever youth had been able to extract several crucial facts based on Sebastian's behaviors. One, he had prevented the boy from clawing himself to shreds. Two, Ciel had been able to draw first blood.

The demon understood that Ciel was beginning to become aware that he was capable of manipulating this realm to his heart's content. Though he believed it to be his own personal Hell, he himself had made it so. Sebastian was all too aware of the exact place that he currently occupied, but in this ever shifting landscape, it was a realm full of bizarre twisted dangers that could threaten even a being such as himself.

As he stood in the dark, waiting silently for any change in atmosphere, he wondered how it had come to pass that he had made such a careless mistake. The boy had that sort of affect on him, he supposed. He remembered that fateful night, in which he had heard the roar of that accursed chainsaw as it devoured his spine and left him brutalized upon the stone of the Phantomhive ruins. How he had wondered just how it was possible that a simpleton such as Grell Sutcliff could possibly get the better of him. However, as he stood within the gaping maw of darkness, Sebastian realized that he had once again let his former master get a leg up over him. He had allowed himself to reveal too much to arouse curiosity within that already dangerous, conniving mind, and now, because of his foolish carelessness, he had allowed him to see that he could actually harm him… and quite effortlessly.

Whatever Ciel desired, this place would respond. If he wished to crush, slice, stab, shoot, or maim Sebastian, he very well could. If he wanted the powers of the idealized Hell itself, he would be able to summon forth an inferno with a simple brush of his fingertips against the wall. In this realm, Ciel was not the legless king; he was unchained, and capable of anything his heart yearned for. It was to Sebastian's own good fortune that Ciel was a creature of reason, and one that had a mind so lost in its own despair, that this realm was focused more on torturing it's king over it's unfortunate guest.

However, he knew it was only a matter of time. This strange crimson clad entity that stalked the shadows of Ciel's personal Hell possessed an awareness that this realm was indeed malleable to his desires. He was already testing the boundaries of his abilities, and experimenting just what he was capable of doing to the demon, and to his surroundings. He had even demonstrated an awareness that Sebastian was accountable for creating the peaceful atmosphere of the dressing room, and that he was able to easily burn it to dust as if it were paper.

In physical flesh, in a logical world, Sebastian had the advantage. His body, his senses, his knowledge of God's laws, and the ability to break them, were all cards in a very fortunate hand. However, here within Ciel's realm, he was susceptible to any unknown horrors that the boy could unleash.

Sebastian was disappointed that his plan for a quick confrontation had been ultimately foiled. Though he knew the risks that he took in coming here, he was determined to plant the seeds of truth within that corrupted, broken mind. Ciel had been so presumptuous, so quick to make his own judgments, and so convinced he knew the absolute truth to everything that had come to pass, that he had blinded himself to any and all contradiction to his beliefs. Furthermore, the trauma that continued to eat at his sanity was driving him into a state of madness so far beyond help, that if left unchecked, Ciel would ultimately be shattered, and by his own hand.

However, Sebastian knew he was ultimately to blame. He held no regret for what he had done, the child had indeed brought it upon himself with his endless defiance, horrid betrayal, abandonment, and the persistence to remain a stubborn, closed-minded, insubordinate cretin even six years later. The more he reflected on the child's defiant face that was burned into his mind's eye, the more he felt his core simmer with the heat of his own personal vendetta and frustration.

Such things were best reserved for another time, when this world was less fragile.

It was a heavy risk to all that stood before them, but Ciel had gone past the point of no return, and only a demon was capable of retrieving what was ultimately lost deep in the abyss.

He shook his head, and cleared his mind of such distractions. The darkness was showing no signs of shifting, and he was loosing essential amounts of time. With every passing minute, he knew that the crimson Ciel was learning more and more about this world, and the threat to his existence was growing exponentially. Unable to see where he was, nor where he should go, Sebastian just decided it best to let his feet carry him forth.

He walked onwards without any obstruction lain in his path. There was nothing there at all, and the oubliette seemed to stretch on for miles without any sign of light or exit. He continued walking, the sound of his own footfalls upon the ground being his only companion. He tried to pinpoint exactly what the ground was constructed of from the sound of the soles of his shoes striking the floor alone, but he found it quite inconsistent; one second echoing like tile, then becoming the dull strike of shoe against wooden floors, and even the _thud _of his shoes upon a cobblestone walk.

It was after a few kilometers of walking that Sebastian noticed that the sound of cobblestones did not shift, and after another kilometer, he noticed that the dark was slowly starting to retreat, as the opacity of grey stone walls and floors began to change and become visible. After a few moments, Sebastian found himself wandering the silent halls of some stone hallway. The bricks that made up the walls were cracked and dirty with age, and the place was dank and smelled of death. However, it wasn't as strong and overpowering as the scent that Sebastian had breathed in within the bathroom, and he found it unnecessary to cover his mouth at this point.

As he passed through the narrow hall, the walls began to loose pieces of itself. Becoming more and more decrepit and resembling ruins. However, beyond those breaks in the wall was nothing but darkness. Eventually, he happened upon a single door, which he found upon closer inspection to be locked. Noting that it was the only door available within range, he determined that the door must hold some deep secret beyond it. He grasped the handle, and concentrated upon it, thinking it a simple feat for a demon to be capable of performing. However, the door stood fast and remained locked and intact. Sebastian accepted his defeat, and allowed his hand to fall to his side with a small '_hmm_'. Instead on dwelling on the disappointment of not being able to open the door, Sebastian walked away from the door with dignity, noting the door's location in case he found the means of opening it.

The dark corridor seemed to rival the burning hallway of the Phantomhive mansion in endless length, though this one continued on a straight path, failing to turn or present more doors. What's more, there were no signs of life. The air was completely still and somewhat stale on the tongue, and the surroundings were quite cold. Sebastian analyzed this situation, reaching the conclusion that he must have breached the barrier between the subconscious and the unconscious. Whereas the place above had been constructed from memories and thoughts focused on Ciel's own torment, this place was completely barren. After a few moments of continued walking, he happened to glance at one of the black voids beyond the broken wall.

There was a blue eye watching him.

Sebastian's expression remained level and cool, though his heart had indeed seized out of habit. Instinctually here, he was in danger of assault, and he had to prepare himself for anything. That single blue eye blinked, and then backed away into the black void. Sebastian then heard a strange, hurried rustling noise, accompanied by a series of small clicks, and a loud _clinking _noise, like a chain being dragged along the floor.

The demon followed suit, the noises leading him down the hallway until he noticed that there was a very large break in the wall. He paused for a moment, debating on if it were wise to enter the void. On one hand, this could be a simple trap, and if he were to purposely fall in, the unthinkable may occur. However, the hallway that he had traversed had shown little change since he had begun, and he was certain he had wasted a good three hours wandering aimlessly upon that path.

With the guiding noises quickly fading into the distance of the blackness, Sebastian finally slipped into the unknown void.

There was a strange loud _squish _that echoed on invisible walls from underfoot. As he followed the noises through this blind corridor, he noticed that his new surroundings were much narrower, and smelled of rotted vegetation. The floor was indeed slippery, and though he followed pursuit at a reasonable pace (it would have been terribly unwise to sprint in a blind corridor with promise of some terrible surprise at any given moment), he found it actually quite difficult to navigate. The floor was steadily uneven as well, and he could even admit that he had nearly tripped once or twice due to what felt like a raised stone. The path also branched off at random moments, and if it hadn't been for the sounds, he would have certainly been poised with quite a difficult series of choices as to which to take.

After a long pursuit submerged in darkness, and the eventual cease of the noises, Sebastian was forced to walk the blind hall unguided. To his own fortune, the path did not split off again, and eventually, happened upon a small ball of faint blue light floating a couple meters before him. As he approached it, it moved away from him, as if repelled by mere presence of another. Sebastian saw, however, that the faint illumination cast by the ball had proven his suspicions of what had surrounded him within the black corridor. The entire thing was coated in dank slime and the remains of dying plants. The only thing Sebastian could see still remotely thriving was a few sprigs of curling ivy, which had blood red leaves and veins of blue. He would have inspected these more thoroughly, but he knew they were unrelated to his investigation. Mentally noting their existence, Sebastian continued to follow the sphere of light.

The ivy seemed to take hold of the hallway, overrunning the small space with thousands of crossing and twisting vines. However, none of these truly posed any threat. What they did do, was establish quite a set of barriers. Sebastian had to navigate carefully, avoiding the vines that stretched across the corridor. Eventually, he saw that the ball of light up ahead had stopped, and was bouncing against a large wall composed of the greedy vines. Sebastian touched one hand against the vines, and retracted it, feeling his skin sizzle from merely coming into contact with it. He shook off the burning irritation, and scanned the poison wall for any weaknesses or openings. Unfortunately, this barrier yielded none. There was a tiny crack between the ivy, and he peered through it. The black void within rendered him blind, but he looked up, and noticed that there was a small break in the wall high above him. He wouldn't be able to fit, but his one light source, the blue orb, would definitely be able to squeeze through. He cornered it, and grasping a hold of the ball, he threw it up into the break, letting it careen off the ceiling and soar through the gap. He returned to the tiny crack, and he could see, as he carefully peeked through it, that there were several more of these walls composed of those horrible plants. Though they weren't as complete as this wall, the trapped blue orb illuminated one other obstacle. The floor was missing.

He refused to go back. The noises that had led him thus far meant that something quite interesting must lie beyond these infernal barriers, and their existence itself was enough to warrant his efforts. He backed up quite far into the darkness, and planned his further execution. With a deep breath, he sprinted forward, and leapt up into the air, flipping forward towards the wall. He extended one leg and brought the heel of his shoe against the vines. He could hear a protesting sizzle of the acidic juice melting into his shoe, but the satisfying sensation of the vines severing underfoot and allowing him to kick off of the destroyed barrier into another buzz saw- like flip into the next wall allowed him to smirk with a minute victory. He repeated this method, severing more than five walls and barely avoiding a deadly plummet into the oblivion below, before he landed safely upon solid stone ground.

One last wall blocked his path, but he could see beyond it that there was a soft blue light. He brought his arm up, and despite the burning sensation that issued forth immediately on contact, he sliced through the barrier, allowing the dead vines to crumple around him.

Beyond the barrier lay a large atrium. A couple of those blue luminescent spheres hovered within this place, illuminating the surroundings in a soft, serene glow. The entire chamber was choked by the blood red ivy, but there was evidence that it had once been a garden. The remnants of plants were strewn everywhere, though they looked as if all manner of plagues had caused them to fester. Sebastian knelt down by a particular sprig of what looked like a rose, and gently picked it up from the ground. The blackened bloom immediately disintegrated in his grasp.

He stood up, looking at his blackened fingers, rubbing his thumb against them pensively, before he heard a rustling noise. He glanced around him, and finding no signs of life, abandoned his position and walked to the furthermost region of the atrium. Three large doorways greeted him, two of which were decrepit and threatening to crumble at any given moment, though they lead down lit staircases. The stable one was choked with a mass of the vicious vines, and a void of black lay within. Sebastian examined each arch, determining that each had it's own particular traits. The one to the left had a clean scent to it, but the air that lay within was stale, promising that there was nothing of true significance within. The center one carried a rusty odor, which caused Sebastian to wrinkle his nose. He was able to identify this scent as aged blood, and he could hear a series of sluggish drips echo from within. He had little desire to touch the ivy again, his hand still unable to shake the toxic kiss of the wall he had severed previously, so he didn't quite consider taking the right path. Opting to select the path in the center, despite the promise of a garish scene, Sebastian took a couple steps towards that archway.

Then, he paused, as he heard a small clinking noise. Pivoting on his heel, he glanced over at the barrier of ivy, and raised one eyebrow in suspicion. He approached the vines, and noticed that there was another hole in the wall. Bending down a little to peer inside, he was greeted by a brief flash of sapphire blue, which blinked once, and backed away into the darkness once more.

Determining that this path was the most significant, Sebastian frowned in distaste, glancing down at his wounded hand and at his ruined shoes. Another strike with either one would leave him with quite an uncomfortable trek, and he wasn't about to sacrifice his advantage over a simple thing as a burn. Flexing his hand, he raised it up, and brought it down upon the vines. They groaned in protest, and ripped asunder beneath his palm, though they released a splay of blood red toxin, which caused him to wince slightly in pain. Shaking his hand, he walked into the darkness once again.

The scent that wafted from within was different. It was almost soothing, and Sebastian closed his eyes as he breathed it in, feeling it glide over his tongue and down his throat with a subtle sweetness. Though there was the heady scent of the ivy that surrounded him, the sweet flavor beneath was a welcome relief to the overpowering taste of rot and smoke that he had experienced prior.

The path lead into a long rectangular chamber, and as he looked around him at his new surroundings, he couldn't help but feel a deep chill glide against his skin. Though the scent was still apparent within this room, he could not find the source. The floor was still littered with the remains of dead vegetation, and ruined statues were placed throughout the room; many of which were missing their heads and torsos, and some had deep gashes in their sides, like some creature had pawed at the stone with mighty claws. Ivy continued to throttle this place, and Sebastian couldn't help but notice that he could recognize a select few of the remnants of the statues, even without most of their bodies. He stepped over a particular petite stone arm, which had a concrete rendition of an intricate lace sleeve splayed over most of the delicate hand. He side stepped around a fallen hat, which was ornately decorated, and as he knelt down out of curiosity to inspect it, he found that a portion of stone hair was left attached to it; just above shoulder length and board straight, with peculiar layers to it so that the back was slightly shorter than the front. Hair that he was certain once belonged to a statue of the late Madam Red.

He placed the stone hat down upon the floor once again, and continued his path, passing by the many statues as if it were an art gallery hallway. As he walked, he eventually came upon a broken portion of wall, which he peered into. The black void within yielded noting for his sight, and he sighed slightly, and continued on his trek, until he heard a brief rustling noise once again. He paused, and turned around, looking at the destroyed wall once again. He walked over to it, and entered the black void once more. The void, however, was like liquid, and as he passed through it, he entered a dimly lit room, in which more of those faint blue orbs danced. The room was covered in dead roses, but his attention was drawn to a particular feature of the room.

A thin, twisted tree was growing from the ground; it's gnarled branches stretching towards the ceiling as if it were desperately seeking sunlight. The trunk was black, as if it had been burnt by some horrible fire, and there were no leaves growing from it's limbs. However, it wasn't this peculiar tree that caught his attention. It was what was peeking at him from behind the twisted trunk.

Slender white fingers were spread over a knob of the tree, and a single blue eye stared at him, half hidden under ash bangs. Sebastian smiled softly with amusement, as he took a step towards the figure, who disappeared around the back of the tree quickly with a small gasp.

"You were watching me, weren't you?" He asked.

There was a quiet rustling from behind the tree, and Sebastian chuckled softly, as he rounded the side of the trunk, looking down. Upon the floor sat a slender figure, dressed in a white and black striped gown that splayed over the roots and stone floor like flower petals. The demon knelt down upon the floor, and inspected the silent lithe form, as it stared down at the ground silently. Sebastian also noticed that one slender ankle, which peeked out from beneath the elegant garment, was embraced by a constricting black metal chain, which seemed to originate from the thick ebony roots of the tree.

That blue eye was hidden by a closed eyelid and lush black lashes, and that delicate face was flawless, except for the opposite eye, which was still bound by thick black thread. Sebastian also noticed something very peculiar about this particular form; it lacked an Adam's apple.

"A tree that is growing where it shouldn't grow," Sebastian said, his words almost a recital of some poem, as he looked up at the twisting arbor, "I know what you are."

The doll-like figure looked up, that iridescent blue orb almost shy as it stared at the man who knelt on the floor. It remained silent, but upon those delicate lips, there was a slight, almost non-existent smile.

'_In the garden of the heart_,' Sebastian thought, as his lips curved into a knowing smile. The tree that had no business growing here, and the child who was chained to it, both evidence of a secret that Ciel himself would never utter. The image of the past came to mind; a young Ciel dressed in a pink and black ball gown, hair done up elaborately. Though he had borne the best scowl he could muster as he regarded the costume with distaste, the young lady that sat upon the floor, chained to the forbidden tree that grew alone in a room of stone, wore a content smile upon those light pink lips, despite the fact that a corset was evident around that slender waist. What's more, as she looked back at him with that familiar sapphire orb, the look within it was almost glazed over with quite a peculiar look, which Sebastian almost interpreted as _admiration_.

After a few moments, the doll slowly reached out to him, and Sebastian remained stationary, as her soft lips curved into a sweet smile, and she leaned in, wrapping her arms about his neck. That dazzling sapphire, that long, soft white hair that floated in fine wisps about that delicate face, an ironic image of the past. An idealized Ciel… in a feminine form. Strange, unexplainable longing that had taken form in the shape of a young lady, though through pride, and countless other reasons, she remained chained to the gnarled tree, unable to be free. As she loomed before him, Sebastian couldn't help but smile at the irony.

She leaned in ever closer, closing her eye and parting her lips. The scent that radiated off that fresh skin was soft and sweet, floral, and rather refreshing. However, as her mouth hovered mere millimeters from his, Sebastian placed a single finger up against his own lips, affectively cutting off her intension. The doll paused, and withdrew with a hurt and confused shimmer in her eye. Sebastian smiled pleasantly, tilting his head to the side and shaking it slightly, "I'm afraid not, my lady."

The doll opened her mouth in protest, but no sound escaped. Sebastian bowed his head respectively, and said, "I have very little time for such things. I did notice that you've been watching me though. Why did you guide me here?"

Ciel remained silent still, and continued to look off to the side, as if disappointed that her advance had been rejected. Of course, Sebastian also noticed that there was a strange, eerie feeling of something else watching him from the shadows where the little doll stared. He looked to his side, watching, before he felt those delicate fingers suddenly caress his cheek, and bring him to stare back at the girl.

Her eye held a deep, dark seriousness within, and she stood up to full height, guiding him up with her. She leaned back against the tree trunk, and turned, reaching her hands up towards the branches too high overhead. Noticing that she was far too short to reach what she wanted to retrieve, Sebastian knelt down, and despite her surprise, he lifted her up.

There was an unexpected laugh that echoed throughout the chamber, and Sebastian was quite surprised, as he looked up and saw that the girl was laughing melodiously, enjoying herself over being so high. He recalled that amusing moment years ago when he had carried his small master home from his captors, and the servants had all remarked that he looked as if he had enjoyed being up so high. The young master had denied everything with a complete disgust of the idea, but seeing this sight, a version of the proud young master laughing from simply being held up higher, was quite laughable. If only Ciel could see himself as he truly was within… the very thought of that proud, reserved face as the embarrassment stained those pale cheeks with a rose tint tickled Sebastian's fancy.

However, reality was truly cold and cruel. Sebastian recalled quickly enough that this place was dangerous expressly because of the wickedness his former master was capable of, and what was the cruelest thing, was the irreversible damage that had been inflicted over years and years of corruption and pain. As he held the lady aloft, and she searched the branches diligently for something, Sebastian became wary of the concept that something might possibly be watching them from the darkest parts of the chamber. He found it rather ironic that it had come to this. His past transgressions against the boy had plunged this world deeply into a dark, venomous spiral, and exposure to unlimited amounts of sin and cruelty had forced an already bitter child to grow into a being drenched in despair and mayhem. Any hopes of those days long dead were useless. There had been no smiles then, no laughter. How did he expect to ever coax such a thing from the boy now? It was the price for his retribution, and he was forced to accept it.

Of course, wasn't this what he truly craved? To push the boy so far into darkness that he could watch that proud face moan in pain and desperation for him? To shame him, break him, push him into submission and watch his soul seep in despair? Though his demonic nature devoured the damage inflicted upon this fragile landscape with a deep, insatiable hunger, he couldn't help but feel a strange, alien feeling deep inside his chest. He couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, but it almost felt as if he pitied the condition of this realm.

He drove such distracting thoughts from his head. What had happened, happened. It would be no use to dwell on the wounds of the past, even ones so deep as the ones he carved into Ciel's soul. What was happening now was the result of all those days lost in darkness, and now, Sebastian was taking a huge risk endeavoring to explore this territory. Though it was in his right and his ability to cross into this realm at his own whim, it was often considered an insane mistake to remain there with a rampaging soul, especially one that had become aware of the intruder's presence. Now it was a game of keeping a level head, avoiding the dangers within, and to not succumb to any of these horrors as if they were a reality. Even if Ciel had the ability to inflict damage upon his body here, Sebastian knew that if he accepted the law of this place that he would become a prisoner, and if that were to happen, then he would single-handedly foil all of his intricate plans in one fell swoop. He was constantly being reminded he had little time to dally, and he found that his legendary patience was being tested by the child's long search in the tree boughs.

Eventually, the doll in his arms motioned to place her back upon the ground. He obliged, and Ciel turned around, holding in her hands two items; one, a long black key, and in the other, a small square of folded paper.

Sebastian took both items into his hand, and examined the key. It had a strange shape worked into the iron, but what he noted was that it had a large garnet embedded a little right of center. He placed the key into his breast pocket, and unfolded the square of paper. Scrawled upon it was a single sentence; "_Remember the Camera_".

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, before he folded the paper up and placed it in his pocket alongside the key, "Thank you. However, would you mind being so kind as to point me in the correct direction?"

The small lady lifted one hand to her mouth, looking around her for a moment. The clinking of the chain and the rustling of her gown upon the ground echoed through the room as she scurried over to a section of wall, where a door suddenly manifested. She searched some of the stones beside the door, until she uncovered a little latch, and pulled it. The door swung open, revealing a stone hall. She returned to his side and motioned for him to use that path.

Sebastian walked over to the doorway, and took a step inside, realizing that it was the very hallway that he had traversed after falling into the oubliette. He looked behind him, about to express his gratitude to the girl, but he heard a loud, sickening _crack _sound throughout the chamber.

The gnarled tree lay in splinters, crackling and bending as a raging fire climbed it's trunk. Thick black smoke suddenly choked the room, the ivy within screaming as it burned away. Standing before the burning tree were two figures; the lady, and the crimson clad Ciel, who held his partner roughly by her fragile neck, restraining her to his chest. He was smiling wickedly, his single garnet flashing with menace in the light of the inferno that engulfed the room. The lady reached out for help, though Sebastian remained where he stood.

"See?" The crimson clad Ciel whispered in his captive's ear, "He doesn't give a damn about you. He enjoys watching you writhe."

She twisted violently, and ripped out of his grasp, running forward towards the open door in the wall, towards the one person available who could be her savior, but before her outstretched fingers could even dream of breaching the doorframe, she fell to the floor abruptly. She looked back in shock, and saw that the wretched chain around her ankle had caused her fall, and the crimson Ciel stood upon a section of the chain, his hand pensively stroking the shining metal letter opener embedded in his chest, a wide smile gracing his face.

"Oops," he said, laughing a little as he stalked his fallen prey, his heels striking the cobblestone like a sadistic metronome. Before the figure upon the ground could do more, he crawled over her, looking down into that single blue sapphire with his own blood red garnet.

Sebastian watched from where he stood, observing silently, stoically, watching just what the crimson demon was plotting. He couldn't help but feel frozen in place, captivated by his own curiosity, though he felt a deep, latent feeling of heroism within his core, he didn't indulge it. Instead, he chose to watch.

The crimson Ciel grasped a hold of her face, forcing her to look upwards at the doorway; at the man who stood there, and he smirked cruelly, "He's just watching you, even though you're hurt, and you're mentally screaming out for him to help you. You forget though, that he feeds off such things… he enjoys watching you pushed to the edge."

That blue sapphire burned with desperation, wordlessly conveying, "_help me… do something…_"

Those pale fingers brought the lady's face back to look up into the burning garnet, and he leaned down, "I hear you. I can hear your screams from the corners of this Hell… and unlike some, I'm willing to free you from this prison."

As Sebastian watched, he noticed that the silvery glint from the boy's chest was absent. He searched the room, a little alarmed that the weapon had disappeared, but a sudden sickening _splurch, _followed by a piercing scream, brought his eyes back to the pair upon the floor. The crimson Ciel had plunged the letter opener deep into the lady's chest, and the doll's spine curved violently, as it thrashed against the blinding pain. Another strike, and another sunk into the lady's body, splaying glistening blood everywhere, all the while, the crimson Ciel laughed manically, filling the room with a horrific duet to the choir of roaring fires and screaming ivy. Sebastian also saw that the landscape had begun to shiver and quake, as if the magnitude of the screams was forcing it into chaos.

The crimson Ciel sat up, his fingers slick with blood, and his eye glowing menacingly as he looked up at the demon in the doorway. He giggled wickedly, and brought the tainted silver letter opener to his lips, licking the blade playfully in taunt, and snapping his lips, "Ahh… delicious. Do you fancy a taste?"

He held the bloody knife out towards the demon, who's eyes narrowed, despite that statuesque expression. The boy laughed again, and bent down over his fallen victim, and Sebastian was certain he heard a rippingnoise, followed by the sluggish dribbling sound.

He was trying to show that he was truly a monster. A way of saying, '_Look at what you've done?_' However, that fallen doll upon the floor, who's bloody hand was lifted up by those slender fingers and licked by a small pink tongue, had reached for him with that very appendage, desperate for the demon to rescue her. It posed the question; who was the true beast lurking in this chaotic realm?

_You're not what I'm here for._

Sebastian shook his head in disgust, and walked away from the garish scene. To his own disappointment, the sweet floral scent had been completely ceased, and was replaced by the suffocating smoke and rot once again.

Walking down the familiar corridor once more, he couldn't help but ponder the contents within his breast pocket. He reached up and pulled out the key and the square of paper, and examined it closely. Just what door was it intended to belong to, in this ever-shifting world? He couldn't be expected to check every single lock for it's appropriate partner, nor did he think that this lawless realm could be expected to keep whatever door it belonged to in the same place twice. Even this corridor that he traverse was slightly different than the first time he passed down it.

_Remember the Camera_.

The camera. Sebastian had seen many cameras during his employment of his former master; the head of the Funtom company and the Queen's Watchdog, but only one camera came to mind that could possibly be of any significance. Though the reasoning behind why it would be necessary to his search for this particular accessory was obscure, Sebastian noted that it was obviously something to look for, in addition to his already slowly progressing quest.

The crimson Ciel's appearance had sparked a slight sense of wariness within the demon's core. That eye continued to haunt his back, and he couldn't help but hear those heels were clicking against the cobblestones behind him, though when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw nothing there. He found this feeling of forced paranoia quite distasteful, and he adjusted his posture as a sign of self reassurance, reminding himself of just who and what he was.

Cruel irony in the form of a single crimson eye watching him from the darkness.

* * *

FINALLY~!!!!!!!

Oh dear god, this chapter was long! AND LATE! Oh dear me, I'm so sorry everyone for the long wait!!!

The elusive, Hellish chapter 32. How difficult to write, and how shifting it had been! I couldn't decide on when and how to conclude this chapter, but I figured this was a fitting place as any to leave off (Muhahahahaa! Cliff hangers for you!), otherwise, we'd be going on for another 16,000 words.

So now, we've entered the third book in this series.

We've got **Book I:** _Obsidian Glass_. **Book II: **_Garnet_. and now **Book III:** _Diamond_. What horrors does it have in store, I wonder?

Creepy Crimson Ciel is creepy… and gave me the shivers. For some odd reason, writing for Crimson Ciel, I pictured almost everything he does in the form of some really macabre music video. I have a really twisted mind… I apologize. Released from social obligations, law, and shame, I figured that Crimson Ciel would be delightfully twisted and 'liberated' in the most corrupted ways. Sebastian is increasingly difficult to write for! When I think I'd get what he'd act like down, I have to stop and rethink what I'm doing. It's so hard writing with logic in an illogical world! Plus, I apologize for how bloody and sick this chapter is… but I'm writing for Hell here, and with Ciel's life a complete wreck in the story, it's pretty hard to top it without getting into the disgusting here… so I'm sorry if I made you loose your lunches.

To clear up something for those who may be confused by this chapter (I know there will be many, because this chapter has been split up into several parts, and this one is basically introductory to Sebastian's mini-side quest here.) Sebastian, when he healed Ciel's wound, awakened this dark persona that is now focused on it's own torment, as well as with toying with his six year long tormentor. Sebastian's dark persona that's been haunting Ciel up to this point now must be very careful. In this world that the Crimson Ciel can manipulate, it's best to keep your head down and behave, which is why he is addressing him respectively and treating him with kid gloves. Otherwise, he will be forced to engage with Ciel, and two things could possibly happen that could ruin all of Sebastian's plans. One; he could damage or even kill Ciel. Two; he could get killed should he refuse to fight back. Which is why, in truth, Sebastian did not go in to rescue the feminine incarnate of Ciel as the Crimson Ciel ripped her apart. He couldn't chance it.

It's quite confusing, isn't it? And if you read this all in one sitting, I applaud you!

The questions right now are; _where exactly is he? _Is Ciel correct in assuming that this place is indeed Hell, bent on his personal torture, complete with his own contracted tormentor? Or has Sebastian entered some other place where it's possible for the 'demonic' crimson clad child to reign? What exactly is this crimson entity? And finally, just _what could Sebastian be searching for?_

There is a rather extensive soundtrack compiled for this and the next few following chapters; mainly "Mama" by My Chemical Romance, "Beast and the Harlot" and "Afterlife" by Avenged Sevenfold, and "Die, Die My Darling" by Metallica . However, I found "Fantasie Impromptu" by Chopin a major inspiration as well… sometimes, classical is the best way to convey a creepy, yet phantasmal setting. If you're interested in hearing the playlist, go to [http[:]//ironicromantique[.]webs[.]com/standalonecrimsonplayer[.]htm].

Now, I'm really sorry for not getting this up sooner, as well as for supplying a rather confusing installment to this story, but I'm having a lot of fun coming up with this bizarre otherworld, and I hope you guys enjoy it, just as much as I enjoy writing it!

There's much, much more to come! So, please, stay with me~!

Thank you all so very much for your wonderful support, your amazing commentary, and your outstanding patience! If you wish to follow my works more closely, or converse with me, feel free to visit my Deviantart account (Username is Sachelarot). Thank you all, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	33. Chapter 33: Chat

After a long hiatus, "His Butler; My Master" is finally back for more chapters!

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series shortly after Season 1 completed, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

Special credit to my wonderful friend Caladria, who took so much time and effort to help me edit these pages. Thank you so so much!

In case you were wondering: C_hat _means _cat _in French.

* * *

**-33-**

**Chat**

_**THUD**_

A red and black shoe smacked against the wall, leaving a small scuff there upon the grey and black wallpaper. It bounced and lay dead far from its partner, which had found itself a home within a potted plant. A large fire crackled in the fireplace, bathing the room in an orangey-red glow.

The lone denizen of the chamber yawned, stretching a little in the chaise lounger that he occupied. He ran his fingers through a stray strand of scarlet hair pensively, as his eyes lingered on the passionate flame that danced playfully in its pen.

Sighing deeply, he propped himself up onto his forearms, turned, and reached behind him, picking up a long kitchen knife from a small table. Bringing it over for better inspection, he smiled slightly with admiration. The fresh blood still lingered on the silver blade; lovely lipstick for that vicious tooth. He drew his finger along it, gathering up a little of the crimson liquid; though most of it had dried since that moment in the kitchen.

Such a lovely color...

So passionate, so strong, so _alive..._

However, there was a lingering feeling in his chest that rose from the admiration. A feeling rivaling concern, perhaps? He sighed, letting the knife lie against his abdomen; despite the fact that his silken robe was gathering up whatever leftover damp blood.

That boy.

What nerve he had to declare that he would rather die! He pouted, twirling one finger about in his hair, as he thought of the way that boy had been so cold. How many years had it been that he had been so kind as to keep that child under his roof? He had clothed, sheltered, protected, and fed him for six whole years, and he had the nerve to say that he'd rather be dead than remain with him? The more he thought about it, the more he felt insulted, and a bit vexed.

However, the joke was on that little wretch. He had wrapped the boy so tightly in the tethers of his dealings that the red haired shinigami was finally the one holding all the cards. William had proclaimed that the boy's life rightfully belonged to Grell, right to that hubris-soaked brat's face! How this new freedom flourished within the reaper's mind, and he chuckled at his own fortune, a little smile playing on his lips. No restrictions, and a hundred percent his to play with to his heart's content!

How he was tired of the boy's excessive protests about this whole 'pain threshold' nonsense, and the endless threats to involve William and get his license revoked again. It was amazingly liberating to know that his little used doll was now completely paid off and his for the breaking. If he so wished it, he could march up those stairs and ravage the boy's body without a single regret.

The thought was utterly tempting the more he reflected on it. That soft, delicate virgin frame; just ripe for the taking... and the thought of that lovely red color that he had left behind continued to persuade him to give into the idea. He found it rather satisfying; the thought of that proud face shocked into a look of submission... that, or maybe he could coax a look of euphoria? Oh, that would be something to see! How Grell had longed to see that expression, being in constant company with that cold child, and feeling that frigid stare upon him at all times. To see a hot, passionate expression from that face; perhaps even a warm red flush upon those cheeks? The vision of sweat trickling down that brow, that heaving chest and wetted lips... the sound of him begging for more... It would be something that even Sebastian hadn't seen, and it tickled him with glee, thinking of having something that Sebastian would be utterly impressed with., something to enhance his worth in the demon's eyes. It was absolutely wonderful, owning the thing that Sebastian wanted most, and couldn't have. Not unless he was feeling particularly generous... and he would make doubly sure that the demon would pay _dearly _for even considering a tiny little taste.

Oohhh... now that was an expression he longed to see. That demon's face flushed with the look of passion, with his black, feathery hair splayed out over a white pillow, and his beautiful, flawless skin exposed to the open air, the blankets rumpled about his gorgeous form, and... and...

The thought made him writhe and giggle excitedly with anticipation, until he remembered what exactly led to Ciel being completely surrendered into his custody: Sebastian had lost interest in him. Grell groaned, covering his eyes with one arm, "Of course that had to happen. My bargaining chip is completely worthless now..."

Suddenly, he heard a loud ringing erupt from across the room. Alarmed, he sat up quickly, sending the knife clattering to the floor. Realizing it was the telephone, he sprung from the chaise, and grabbed at the phone, twirling a little on his heel as he chimed, "Hello? Mademoiselle Rouge speaking!"

"_He's gone._"

"Eh?" He furrowed his eyebrows a little in confusion, "Who is?"

"_Who do you think?_" A slightly sarcastic, yet utterly lackadaisical voice said from beyond the receiver.

"But why?" Grell twisted his finger about in the black coils of the phone line, anxiety biting into his lips, "Where could he have gone off to?"

"_Beats me,_" the voice continued with a little yawn, "_I just thought to inform you that he's gone, since you're so obsessed with him and all..._"

"You SHOULD call me more often!" Grell protested loudly, "Which, you never do! No address! No calls! No letters! So close to him, and you just leave me hanging, constantly lording over the fact that you-"

An ear splitting scream instantly froze Grell's words in his throat. He looked up at the ceiling, as the entire house suddenly seemed to quiver and shake immensely. The horrible scream was unleashed within the manor's walls, knocking things from their places and sending them crashing to the floor. Grell watched as a long, jagged crack devoured three framed pictures on the wall, shattering the glass and raining tiny glittering fragments all over the carpet. The fires died for a moment, plunging the entire room into darkness, before they erupted again with a triumphant roar, and then resumed its playful dance.

Amongst the chaos that had abruptly occurred, Grell remained staring intensely at the ceiling, at the general point of origin that the bone-shuddering scream had exploded from, and having a firm suspicion of just who it belonged to.

"I think I just found him," Grell said, as he placed the telephone back into its harness, and hurried up the stairs towards the upper loft, and the chorus of screams that sounded from within; like the Choir of Hell itself.

† † † †

In the darkness of the endless corridor, a soft, melancholy melody hung in the air like a mantle, summoned forth from twin pale lips. The light hum was only accompanied by the dull tempo of shoe soles striking the stone floor with every step that Sebastian took. Hours had gone by since he had abandoned the grisly scene, and since then, he had not witnessed any sign of the crimson clad entity's presence, nor suffered any of his direct influence. The hall continued on, it's infinite length undeterminable, for every step that Sebastian took, the solid wall of darkness ahead seemed to jump forward a foot, and so continued, even as one by one, solitary doors began to be born from its maw.

Sebastian had ventured out of slight curiosity to open one of these doors, though within he found only an abyss filled with emptiness. However, he could hear a number of different sounds; the clatter of cartwheels and horse hooves upon a street, the resistant squeal of door knobs being turned, the occasional faint chorus of a busy avenue. His keen nose picked up peculiar scents, as if the room held a stray wind captive, perfumed with the scent of dank London streets. As he left the door, he paid mind to close it, only to notice that as soon as his back was to it, the knob instantly turned, and the barrier was thrown wide open, as if something had barged in as soon as the coast was clear.

He had chanced to look inside again, wondering if there had been some sort of change to the contents of the chamber. He found absolutely nothing. The sounds had ceased, and the scent had become lost altogether. Whatever memories that were kept within these rooms were erased completely from existence.

This pattern continued thereafter; every door that Sebastian passed, either closed or slightly ajar upon his passing, would suddenly open wide, handle banging against the wall in protest, and whatever contents within would instantly disappear, as if inhaled by some invisible ravenous specter. The demon had long since given up on checking every individual room, knowing full well that it was a pointless endeavor, as every chamber held the same darkness within. His search was beginning to trail on much longer than he expected, and he was aware that he was growing a fraction weaker as time within the twisted realm progressed. The immense pressure of it all was bearing down upon his shoulders like a weight, and though he refused to sag under it, he took heed that it was certainly affecting him, little by little, and soon, he would be to the rare point of exhaustion.

He could not afford to let such a thing happen, and though he had already attempted to break the loop of the endless corridor, he found it to be in vain. In this fragile world, if he were to inflict his demonic abilities upon it directly, he risked the danger of compromising his mission indefinitely. One false move, and the entire Hell could collapse upon itself; either crushing or expelling him completely, and then Ciel would suffer the after affects in the worst way possible. His legendary patience wearing thin, Sebastian had resolved to hum to himself to keep his mind preoccupied.

What had merely been a way of entertaining himself seemed to have become a lure for the presence of another. Sebastian paused for a moment, and smiled softly to himself. Without turning around, he spoke, "If you insist on following me, why not come forward and speak to me in a civilized manner? Are you afraid, or just terribly rude?"

There was a thick silence, and Sebastian sighed softly, "I see..."

Suddenly, there was a soft noise, the sound of hushed padding against the floor. He blinked for a moment, and looked down in time to see a small, black blurry shape slide by between his legs. His garnet eyes followed it for a moment, until the creature paused and turned around, its lanky body poised defensively low, sapphire eyes regarding him with deep prejudice.

Sebastian's expression was somewhat surprised, and his lips curved into a soft smile, as he exclaimed, "Ah, no wonder you refused to speak. Cat has your tongue, I see?"

The little kitten bristled and narrowed its eyes, before stalking off into the wall of darkness. The demon clicked his tongue in disappointment, "Well, that's a pity..."

Abruptly, there was a loud tearing noise, and his eyes widened in brief surprise, as the light sound of soft paws shifted in weight, until something considerably heavier walked out from the darkness. Standing before him, clad in a derelict black twin-tailed jacket and ruffled, ripped up ebony skirt, was a pale boy, two gleaming sapphire orbs boring holes into him with the fires of condemnation.

"What are you trying to accomplish, Sebastian?"

Sebastian raised his thin dark eyebrows, "Ah, so you do speak!"

The boy tilted his head to the side, "That's not a suitable answer."

The demon smirked, as his eyes flicked over the young lad's appearance, and discovered, hidden beside two fluffy black pigtails, twin feline ears, pricked up and focusing on the demon's words carefully, and tweaking once or twice for any sound that could be of concern to the little creature.

Sebastian grinned, "That's one of the things I always liked about cats; they don't waste any words. I see you're the same as your fellow felines. Othello, I presume?"

The cat lifted his head and stood up straight, still in a slight defensive stance, his partially gloved hands clenched into balled fists, "You assume correctly, though you are doing a fabulous job avoiding my question. I've been following you for some time now... and you are not just 'exploring', as you've been claiming to the Corruption."

"The Corruption?" Sebastian asked.

"Do not play dumb." Othello scoffed, "He's been following you all this time... don't tell me you haven't noticed?"

He jutted his chin towards the abused line of doors that appeared behind Sebastian, and as the demon turned, he noticed the wall of darkness at his back had been obliterated, as one by one, lamps that had once been absent, ignited with angry flames, producing a garish scene. The once clean stone corridor had become torn apart and blackened, as if scorched by some animate flame. The doors had been ripped off their hinges completely now, and the shards of their bodies were partially ignited and splattered with crimson liquid. There was no one there to be the cause of the mischief, but as Sebastian turned his attentions back onto the cat, the feline regarded him with a gaze that could only be a cold hard accusation.

"How am I to be held accountable for this mess? You say you've been following me, so you would have seen that I have not done anything but walk this entire time," Sebastian said in his own defense. Though he felt he hardly needed to explain himself to this new entity, upon further thought this person did possess certain qualities that he regarded worthy of some sort of reassurance.

"You are here," Othello said bluntly, "that's enough of a crime."

Sebastian sighed, tilting his head slightly, "Even if it's with the best intentions?"

The cat's eyes narrowed into thin slits, "What possible 'best intentions' could a demon have besides his own?"

"It all depends on your perspective," Sebastian responded with a slight, knowing smile, "what may be considered evil to some, may be essential for others... done for their own good."

The cat huffed, "Oh really? In my eyes, you are still nothing more than a monster, who I should just let continue to walk these halls from here to eternity. However, that would be giving the Corruption something that it wants."

"And how is that?" Sebastian inquired.

"Oh please," The cat walked up to him, "he dances in your wake, like your devoted shadow, and yet you shun him altogether as if he doesn't exist. That primarily confuses me. As such, I don't know what exactly to do with you."

Sebastian shook his head lightly, "I have no interest in him. I am indeed searching for something in particular, though I doubt you will be the one to show me the way."

"You assume correctly this time." Othello sighed and tapped his chin lightly, "Though, it's quite a puzzle. If I continue to allow you to be stuck in this infernal spiral, then you will be leading the Corruption through every door you pass, and I can not allow that."

Sebastian smiled slightly, "Then will you allow me access to other places?"

"Do not make such bold assumptions, demon."

The cat's icy glare was deftly familiar to the once butler, and it made the corners of his lips curl ever more slightly with interest. Those twin sapphires burned so cruelly with cold conviction, though it was obvious the peculiar lad was quite as curious about the intruder as he was of the feline. He began to pace in silent meditation, the soft soles of his shoes scuffing the stones with a sound that reminded Sebastian of smoothing cotton sheets with one's hand. He tapped his chin, tilting his head this way and that and muttering to himself in a language that even Sebastian's keen ears could not comprehend. It was like an ancient, internal tongue that was the universal language of contemplation, known only to the ears belonging to the body in which the mouth that uttered it belonged.

Though this change in scenery was somewhat refreshing for the demon after what seemed like years of infinite darkness and doorways, his time was waning, as was his own patience. Though Sebastian was intrigued by this new entity, he had waited quite enough. He had an investigation to conduct, and judging by the small, irritating feeling of one's legs beginning to hum with the tune of ache, his resistance was becoming anything but invincible.

"Pardon my rudeness," the cat paused mid-step, and one of his black fuzzy ears twitched and twirled a little to listen to the demon, "but I really must carry on. I have little time, you see. I must not waste it any longer. If I must continue down this corridor without your assistance, than so be it, but since that is obviously an issue for you, would you be so kind as to direct me to another place where I will be less of a nuisance?"

Othello turned his head to consider the tall dark man, as if asking just who this intruder thought he was trying to rush his meditation. However, as he opened his mouth to remark, his ears twitched and rotated forward, listening to the sound of water dripping and the faint, almost inaudible sound of tapping. Sebastian heard it as well, though he needn't turn around to know exactly what the source of the sound was.

"So, he's decided to show himself again?" Sebastian sighed, "Pity, and we were carrying on so nicely with our little chat."

The cat's ears folded back in defense, eyes locked on the far end of the corridor, where the lamps began to flicker, and the familiar wall of black began to drown the massacred hallway. The metronome of clicks echoed, and grew louder with every sound, signifying that their owner was mere yards away, and closing in.

"It seems your decision will have to be hurried," the demon said, watching the cat's reactions with interest. If this entity was anything like the feminine doll he had seen butchered at the base of the forbidden tree, he was certain that it feared the impending wall of darkness and what it contained within. If it forced a quick decision from this obstacle, Sebastian vied to gain a little more ground, hopefully in his favor. Those sapphire orbs shifted back and forth between the darkness over the demon's shoulder, and that alabaster face. They narrowed, critical and bearing a resentful poison, but the cat turned on his toes and walked ahead without a word. Sebastian took this as permission to follow, and pursued the soft sounds gently scuffing the floor.

Into the darkness he followed the faint padding noise, which after a few feet, had broken into a swift flight. Sebastian easily followed suit, trailed by the loud pounding of the Corruption's heels at his back. It almost felt as if those deft clicks were filling his head, trying to drown out the cat's steps so that he would be lost in the dark and subject to the Corruption's influence yet again. After a few minutes, no matter how hard he strained, Sebastian mentally cursed himself; he had lost the cat's trail.

He nearly collided with a dark shape huddling on the floor in the dark. Had he not heard a sudden shift of the coarse fabric against the ground and the faint slap of flesh touching stone, he would have certainly tripped on him. The lad had dropped to all fours and began prodding the wall before him with his fingers, searching for something. The clicks of heels persisted, and grew louder, but despite the desperate situation, Sebastian demanded nothing of the concentrating feline. The cat's fingertips explored every inch of the section of wall, poking and pawing at indentations and imperfections haphazardly. Sebastian's patience grew thin; he couldn't wait any longer. He reached into his jacket, and was about to draw a concealed piece of metal, when there was a loud scraping sound, followed by the hurried noises of crumbling stone and a cloud of billowing dust. Sebastian looked down and noticed, faintly, that in the dark, the cat had revealed a secret entrance in the wall. His form quickly scuffled in, and had Sebastian not instantly followed suit, dropping to his knees and crawling into the black hole, he would have missed the only opportunity to escape the endless hall. No sooner had he entered the clotted corridor, than the opening was instantly resealed, silencing the sound of the approaching footsteps indefinitely.

Sebastian tried to rise to his feet, but a low ceiling prevented his attempt and forced him to move forward on all fours. He clicked his tongue in distaste, feeling the rough, damp floor beneath his hands slowly seep into his gloved palms. He continued forward in the tiny black corridor, until he bumped headlong into a solid wall. He shook his head and mentally rolled his eyes at his own foolishness that he hadn't sensed the blockage beforehand, and backed up momentarily to search the obstacle. Feeling along its surface, one of his fingertips found a slight indentation. Tracing over it more thoroughly, he discovered that it was in the shape of a small keyhole. Remembering the key stowed away in his breast pocket, he retrieved it, and brought it up to slide it into the hole. The key fit, but only barely. He found that he had to force it, and even so, once it was in, it took a few attempts to get the lock to yield. With a satisfying click, the bolt moved aside, and he pressed against the wall, which began to slowly shift away from him.

The section of wall swung open, exposing an upper balcony floor, embraced by a golden rail and scarlet drapery that spilled down into the floor below. Standing before him, with his back to the demon, was Othello, his tail swinging in aggression, bristling slightly. Sebastian pulled himself up to full height, adjusted his clothes so that they hung from him properly, and he walked forward towards the entity.

"It seems she was foolish enough to entrust you with that key." The cat said, not bothering to turn around, "I was hoping you would have continued to crawl for eternity in that little box, but I suppose I'm not graced by Lady Luck's kiss, unlike you."

"She?" the demon inquired, though he figured as much that the strange cat was referring to the butchered chained maiden.

"Admiration," the cat said simply, not bothering to take his eyes off of the room below the balcony.

Admiration explained plenty; a secret hidden desire in feminine guise... what else could she had been when she gazed at him with such appreciation and longing? That one blue eye, possessed with the forbidden hope of requited love, though the tree from which she was secured to was one forbidden to grow in a young man's heart. She was the secret yearning that only a select few developed over time, and Sebastian had witnessed her demise in the blood stained hands of the Corruption.

"He knows that we are up here," the cat spoke again, his tail swishing from side to side, "and he's showing off for you."

Sebastian leaned over the railing and looked down into the room below. The floor was golden, glittering beautifully with the twinkle of many flickering candles embracing the circular chamber. The crimson curtains with silken sheen looked like thick rivers of blood pouring down the walls and pooling upon the floor. Besides these, what ultimately caught his attention were the broken statues down below, and the single crimson entity that waltzed within their ring, dancing with what looked like a lifeless doll. The crimson Ciel continued to dance, leading his partner into a chaotic waltz to the melody of his own laughter, the clacking of his heels against the floor, and what sounded like a possessed violin, playing a warped version of a song Sebastian knew all too well. The mannequin itself was familiar; it was dressed as an exact mimic of his own clothes, though it's head lolled from side to side violently with every twist and turn as if it were a corpse. The smile that graced the entity's face was twisted, and as the song concluded, and he dipped his partner low, the glint in that one bloody eye up at the demon perched high above him, was enough to cause Sebastian to narrow his own eyes.

"He's mocking you," Othello said, glancing at his forced companion, "showing you what a monster he's become."

"I recognize the people those statues are imitating," Sebastian decided to pay no heed to Othello's insight, "some I can see would deserve his scorn, but Lady Elizabeth as well?"

Heindicated the statue cowering against the wall, her head turned away with a terrified posture, as if she was trying to protect her face with hands that were no longer cracks were established all over her body, and her pretty face suffered a huge gash that looked almost like someone had taken a hatchet to it. Other statues cowered in the room with her, people Ciel Phantomhive had once surrounded himself with. A motionless figure of the shady Lau had his hands out as if to bargain or reason with his attacker, but his fingers were broken off, so he looked as if he was pointing accusingly with solitary index fingers. His jaw had been torn clean off, as if smashed with a sledgehammer, eliminating that snarky smile that he so often possessed. The fallen body of Ranmao lay curled at his feet, her arms and feet snapped off, but her eyes, fully open, seemed to watch with an accusing final stare past Lau's ankles. The broken remains of the greedy Italian were almost unidentifiable, and there was a curling tail that looked like the debris of what was once a statue of Pluto. There were many piles of rocks that were impossible to decipher, but Sebastian knew their meaning. These were people that Ciel had kept close, but blamed for his misfortune. Perhaps, the reason why Elizabeth was cowering amongst them was the fact she had called him mad in his hour of desperation so many years ago. Was it within the young woman's power to rescue him? If she had searched inside her heart, and recognized her first love's face beneath the mutilations and modifications, would this statue be spared? Sebastian knew that she was powerless, but that didn't stop Ciel from being bitter all the same. The golden dance hall was one of the many rooms steeped in his corruption, and the mannequin that twirled in pair to the entity was one of the many that betrayed his trust and expectations. It seemed to encourage the crimson Ciel to torment it all the more, and he continued to fill the echoing room with his melodious, maniacal laughter as his waltz persisted.

"Tch, what a waste," Othello glanced at the demon, who's eyes were frigid, locked on the whirling crimson specter down below. The cat could almost feel a chill stab into his vertebrae, as Sebastian's garnet irises held nothing but contempt, and an air of deep, dark disappointment, teetering on the brink of dismal depression. The demon continued to lament, his tone sharp, like a dart sent to seek out the cause of his despair, "What was once glorious is now nothing more than cheap wine, bitter and mediocre. It is beyond pittance. Such a sin that would even make the Devil cry."

The cat narrowed his eyes, and looked back down at the figure below, who violently spun across the dance floor with reckless abandon, slamming the doll into forlorn statues in his wake. His tail swished softly, as he mused, "He is indeed a glutton. He's been devouring all he can get his filthy hands on. That which he does not devour, he envelopes in wreathes of flame."

He pulled away from the railing, one hand resting on it still as he stood facing the ebony butler. His feet were planted firmly apart and chin tilted downwards in a constant daring offensive, "It's entirely your fault, you know. Sebastian Michaelis, the Tormentor: the dark fiend that will lead us into oblivion. Even as you walk here, he is following your every move, and rejoicing in your assistance and guidance. You're his devilish gardener, and he is your rotten fruit."

"I am not the one who has nurtured this bitter flower," Sebastian said, his voice firm and stern, "it is a true pity that you haven't realized that yourself. Perhaps that is why you cower up here instead of police him, as you should."

The cat's eyes widened for a brief moment, one foot slipping backwards, prepared to flee into the dark recesses of the upper balcony, but he paused, tilted his head to the side, and narrowed his eyes, as if stabbing him once again with accusation, "How dare you say such things. Redirecting the blame on me, how typical of a trickster like you."

With a slightly frustrated sigh, and a shake of his head, Sebastian finally decided enough was enough, "I'd hate to be rude, but if you are not going to listen to my words and offer any sort of consideration on their part, then I have nothing more to say to you. If you wish to be helpful by any means, will you kindly direct me to a corridor that will yield some small amount of assistance? If not, please step aside and I will leave you be."

After a few minutes of unbroken eye contact, and not a single hint of guidance, the demon resolved to abandon the feline, but no sooner had he taken more than three paces past Othello's shoulder, than the cat spoke once more, "What are you trying to accomplish being here? You say you are not assisting the Corruption, yet you lead him. However, you call him a cheap wine, and shun him altogether as if he's filth. What is it that you are trying to find?"

Sebastian could detect the curiosity lingering in the cat's monotone, and it amused him slightly to know that this creature shared another particular attribute in common with his kin. Perhaps it would be enough to set him in the right direction. He paused, and glanced over his shoulder, and with a flick of his wrist, he revealed the slip of paper that he had tucked away in his breast pocket.

"At the moment, this is what I seek."

The paper was pinched between his index and middle fingers, extended for the feline to feel free to retrieve. The cat's curiosity fulfilled the demon's expectations, as Othello's footsteps could be heard behind him, a soft scuffling sound of the padded boots upon the hardwood floor. The cat quickly snatched the folded paper, and backed up a few paces, before unfolding it and scanning its contents with critical blue eyes. He turned the paper over a few times, as if searching for something hidden in the white landscape of the note, before he let his hand fall to his side. He looked at the demon for a long moment, studying him silently with a look that seemed to scrutinize every inch of him; weighing his present options. Suddenly, he heard a loud, maniacal laugh fill the downstairs' ballroom, and he hurried to look over the railing at what had happened below. His jaw clenched, and Sebastian's lips curved upwards in a small bemused smile, as the cat's twin black ears folded back in a boomerang shape of significant irritation. Othello's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly, his shoulders ridged, and Sebastian couldn't help but notice that the last souvenir of the poor murdered girl was being crushed in the cat's tense grip.

Sebastian glanced down into the atrium as well, and saw no trace of life within the room. Quite the contrary, it was wrought with the crimson entity's influence; the statuesque wallflowers, once merely dismembered, were dashed to pieces, scattered throughout the room in massive clusters. Elizabeth's frightened face now stared straight up at the balcony above, her eyes wide and terrified, and separated completely from her destroyed body, now lying amongst the debris. All of these people were now one, a legion of destroyed relationships, felled by discord, distrust, betrayal, and regret. The indiscriminate corruption had destroyed whatever influence they had; minimal or great. Ciel's partnership with Lau had been instantly dissolved with the death of Inspector Abberline, but there had been a little influence between the earl and that seedy man who had his slimy fingers in every drudge and opium filled pie in London. A mutual respect for each other's resources or did the youth see the Chinese man as his last link to his lost aunt? One last reminder since she had been snatched from him in an instant upon the filthy cobblestones of that dark, dank alleyway. Whatever the reason, the man could no longer be seen within the atrium, and his poor pet, the girl who lay upon the floor, was now one with him; her body smashed to fine grey powder.

What the demon focused on most, was the mannequin that had been his doppleganger; it now lay in a pool of blood, ripped limb from limb and scattered around the room in a specific design. The trunk lay with its severed throat pointed downwards towards its decapitated head, which looked forlornly up into Sebastian's eyes with crimson buttons. His arms lay on opposite sides of the room, far away from his core, and so did his legs, separate and almost touching the circular wall. Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the scene, knowing well that all the debris and the five amputated body parts had a specific design that was far from random. From a high perspective, it formed an upside down five pointed star, trapped within a circle.

"I will help you, demon," Sebastian turned to acknowledge the cat, who had disappeared from his side, and now stood in the dark of the furthermost reaches of the room, "You are looking for a camera? I don't recall such a thing residing here that would be of any significance, but if it's uniform information that you require for direction, I will lead you to a place that may be helpful to you."

He turned, and from the dark space, Sebastian heard the sound of a handle turning, and a latch giving way, "I don't know your true intentions, but if you intend to continue to spur away the Corruption, then I see no other beneficial option than to assist you in finding what that girl intended you to find."

Sebastian's smile played on the corner of his lips as he followed the feline, stepping through the narrow door that he had revealed. In due taste, he bowed his head slightly, his hand against his chest, "You have my gratitude."

"I don't want gratitude," the cat interjected before Sebastian's final syllable sounded, "I don't even want you here. What I want is for the Corruption, and all those who bring it with them, to leave this place as soon as possible."

He punctuated his statement with a cold, condemning glare, before walking forward a few steps onto a metal catwalk. Sebastian followed suit, the sound of his soles striking the grating bouncing around the room with every step, as he began a descent down a narrow spiral staircase. He was careful to keep a close proximity to the feline, in case that he could possibly lose his navigator by merely losing sight of his back.

Sebastian took advantage of their silent descent to learn more about his disgruntled guide, "How was a cat able to enter this place, I wonder?"

"Simple," Othello did not look back, "When a person is lonely enough, even something as common as a cat begins to have a voice in their little world."

A small smile grew on Sebastian's lips once more, "I see."

The more that they descended down into the dark maw surrounding them outside of the silver stair, the tighter the spiral case seemed to become, as if becoming a drill into the core of the oblivion. The affect was almost vertigo inducing, and if Sebastian had been any normal human being, such an excursion would have been claustrophobic, chilling as the optical illusion of the passage growing narrower and narrower threatened to pinch them to a pulp.

Such a reality did not come to pass, but Sebastian did feel grateful that their destination loomed into view down below. If Sebastian had been in front of Othello instead of behind, he would have seen that the cat's eyes had been focused on the space beneath their feet, as if concentrating that large golden octagon into being. It was an ornately constructed floating chamber, with no visible ground or perch anywhere beneath it. The staircase entered through a hole in the roof of the enclosed chamber, and as he first stepped down into the shining room, Sebastian was pleasantly surprised that it was a rather well stocked library, filled from roof to floor with books of all shapes and sizes, volumes upon volumes of assorted notations. Othello stepped away from the stair to scurry to a large door, which would have lead to nowhere, if logic commanded this world. The cat pressed his ear against its face, listening intently, and remained there as the demon perused the library.

The location itself was a godsend, a break from the monotonous endless hallways, in Sebastian's opinion. However, it was not without its many flaws. The entire contents of the room were neglected, and many of the tall bookcases yielded clouds of dust with just a slight breath in their direction. Many documents suffered; so many were blank or illegible. Some had pages that had melded together, as if they had been dunked in glue. Others were smudged, damaged, and the select few books he uncovered were buried under mounds of dust, thick as ash.

He uncovered a peculiar book from beneath a scattered pile of volumes at the base of a dilapidated bookshelf. This small journal had caught his eye, not because of any distinguishing characteristics, but because he felt a strange connection with it, as if its significance was calling out to him with a muffled voice beneath the debris.

The demon flicked his hand over the cover to clear it completely of the grey dust, and undid the frail black ribbon that kept it closed. The paper within was yellowed with age, but not so old that it was ancient knowledge. In the corner of the first page, was a smudged, scribbled date. His eyebrows rose in interest, as he thumbed through the pages, and found that many were blank, or ripped out, as if in haste to hide their contents from being discovered. However, he found one particular paragraph that was of interest:

_"That portrait in the foyer; I despise it. I can't bear to see those hollow eyes on me, always lying to my face and back as I pass them by, always happy, sweet and serene as if they lived the perfect, ethereal life, untouchable by misfortune, untainted by corruption. What a dishonest wreck of a painting. Those lifeless eyes upon the paper, they don't judge me, but I wouldn't doubt it if my father and my mother are looking upon me from wherever they are, and weeping for the son that had forsaken Heaven in the name of his revenge. My father... would he have turned his back on me to know I was branded with a devil's mark? ... No... I don't think so. My father was not a saint. I know this. He was the Queen's watchdog before me... does that mean he's in Hell now? Was he worthy of Heaven's graces because what he did was in the name of her Majesty?_

_ As they say, "The sins of the fathers are the sins of the sons", as I now follow in his footsteps so closely, you'd think they were my own._

_ But... what of my mother? _

_ I'll have Sebastian destroy that portrait. I don't deserve to see my mother's smile." _

Sebastian's eyes finished skimming the text, and he found that he was pacing the octagon room as he read through a few more passages scattered throughout the book. Each detailed sentence was a separate resounding thought of major significance within their writer's life, and Sebastian could not be anymore interested.

It wasn't until he was halfway through the text that something slipped free from the book's pages, and landed on the floor at his feet. Sebastian had very nearly stepped on it, but he paused, and glanced down at the familiar face down paper. He caught sight of something else that him pause as he prepared to stoop down to pick it up. The entry that had been revealed from where the paper had been wedged, read:

_"I came into possession of a certain item that I thought would answer a question that has been bothering me for some time. Unfortunately, all it seemed to do was open up a new series of questions and curiosities that I have little time to ever find the answer to. That damned creature. He took the photo while I was sleeping. I know he was mocking me, or at least, my staff's incompetence, but that was enough for me to evaluate just what this photo means._

_ Who is the photo of? Sebastian, or me?_

_ ... I suppose it doesn't matter. He owns my soul, of course it would be important to him, for whatever wicked intentions he has in store for it... but, I suppose, if there was anyone I would be satisfied with killing me... it would be him and no other. I will not rest if it's anyone else. Is it sad that I trust what I know will be my death? Perhaps that is why I trust him so much, depend on him as my caretaker, my sword and shield. He treasures me, because I am a future possession, or a meal... and he is protective of his future hoard. As long as I am alive, I can trust he will be my death, that my soul will belong to him. When the time comes, I will not fight him. There's a funny feeling that comes along with knowing what will be your inevitable death. I don't know if it's comfort or relief… perhaps it's acceptance? I am not sure. If there was an answer I could give myself as to why I trust that despicable creature more than anything else in this world, then I wouldn't waste so many afternoons and midnights thinking about it._

_ I suppose this photo... is of -"_

The final bit of the entry had been torn, but Sebastian had read enough to know what the forbidden affection had eluded to when she had directed him towards the 'camera'. He knelt down and picked up the fallen photo and flipped it over in his hands. The only photo in existence of himself and his master, taken by the Camera Obscura; which lens could puncture the planes of the living and dead, and transcribe not only the image of the subject, but the subject's most important thing in the world.

He flipped it over in his hands again, and took a black fountain pen from his inside pocket. He crossed over to a reading table, and pressed the photo down to write on its back "_Who is this photo of_?" He blew on the wet ink gently to let it dry, and added it, the book, and the pen back to the security of his jacket pockets.

No sooner had he done so, than he looked down to see Othello's face staring up at him in an almost chilling way, inches from his own, his blue eyes wide and staring at him almost in a catatonic state. Had he been watching him this whole time, frozen with such a shocking expression? Sebastian turned and looked at him squarely, and tilted his head as if in good humor, "Yes? What is it?"

"Didn't I say, don't take anything?"

It was not Othello's voice that had made the accusation, but it was enough to make the feline snap out of his creepy, statuesque state, and hiss violently at the door at which he had been listening though. Sebastian turned his head towards the golden portal, and felt his own heart sink as the crimson entity stood in the door, reclining back against its wooden face and swinging his bloodied cane with an amused smile gracing his lips.

Sebastian didn't even notice the cat's flight, but no sooner had he realized the corrupted Ciel occupied the octagon library, than he noticed that Othello was nowhere to be found. His twin garnets locked on the scarlet lad, as he walked over to the closest bookcase, and glossed over a few of the volumes with his eyes, "Here for some light reading, Sebastian?"

He smiled, such a twisted, grotesque thing, and continued, "Did that mangy animal let you in here? I swear... if you don't keep them on a tight, suffocating leash... the dirty animals of the world will bite, claw, fuss, hiss, and spit at you. You just have to break a few necks to show them who's boss... am I right?"

Ciel touched a dark blue volume, and immediately, the paper ignited beneath his fingertip, and spread violently, devouring the entire section of the room. He strutted around the room slowly, dragging his hand along the bookcases so that a fiery inferno devoured their contents like a ravenous lion in his wake, "How are you enjoying your tour so far? Are you impressed?"

"Impressed?" Sebastian's voice humored him, "If you mean impressed by such... inelegant ways of getting my attention... then yes, I am impressed."

The crimson fiend laughed, his voice reverberating off every wall so that it became a warped echo that rang in Sebastian's ears like a wild bell, "How blunt, Sebastian, how very blunt. You're right though, I just haven't tried hard enough..."

Sebastian's eyes watched with acute focus on the crimson boy's movements, waiting just in case he would make any moves to attack him. The raging fires that now ate up every lick of paper, every recorded memory, filled the room with a thick, hazy smoke, which made visibility increasingly harder to achieve. As the room became completely suffocated by an orange and grey screen, Sebastian's superior eyesight lost his target.

Only to have it suddenly reappear from the haze, and advance on him with arms and fingers outstretched, that twisted smile growing larger as he approached at rapid pace. He made a grab for the demon's face, before Sebastian leapt back, and lashed out at the entity's hands with the metal tip of his hidden pen. Ciel stopped, frozen in place, and looked down at his hands, slowly turning the palms over to reveal the single long incision that had been delivered across both palms. The blood immediately began to well up and pool over into the valleys of his hands, and as he looked up, his single red eye gleamed so viciously, Sebastian could see the bloodlust boil and froth within them. His gritted teeth gnashed for a moment, like a horse chomping at the bit, before his lips suddenly curled back into a demented smile, and he took both hands to his mouth, cupping them like an offering bowl, and drinking his fill of his own blood. Sebastian could hear the revolting slurping that commenced, followed by a gurgling chuckle that filled the hazy room with more eeriness than any person could handle.

The demon kept the pen palmed, its metal head dripping a single tear of blood red 'ink' upon the floor. He skimmed the clotted interior of the room for an exit, before he made his way towards the door that the crimson entity had arrived through. However, as he inched around the room, poised to attack him again, Ciel stopped laughing almost instantly, and turned to look at him with an expression that looked almost sane. He smiled softly, and held his hands out on either side of him with a near shrug, "It seems you just can't play fair, can you?"

Suddenly, a small white hand crept over his shoulder and snatched the book of memories from his pocket. The crimson entity purred in Sebastian's ear with a hint of poisonous malice, "What was my rule, Sebastian?"

"Don't take anything," he answered, as Ciel disappeared from his back to his front, thumbing through the contents of the book.

"Mmn... I don't see why you would have wanted such a useless thing anyway," he said, glancing up, "there is nothing worth reading in here anyway."

He held the book open for Sebastian to see; the page became dotted with garnet beads, as if the pulp of the paper itself was bleeding. Within moments, the entire book poured forth a fountain of scarlet that rendered the book completely ruined. Sebastian stared at it, almost forlornly, as Ciel leaned in, "Come now... if it was my memories you wished to see... you needn't bother yourself with this place... how about you experience them for yourself?"

No sooner had he said the last word in his sentence, than the floor gave way to the fiery maw, and something invisible grabbed a hold of Sebastian's body, pulling it down into the darkness once again. He looked up and saw the crimson entity look over the side of the hole, waving as he made his descent into some new unknown region of this terrible world.

The invisible force instantly deposited him on the floor of a labyrinthine corridor, which looked metallic in construction. The crackling voice of flame and the clinking of metal made Sebastian wonder just which part of the world he had been transported to. He stood up and dusted himself off, before glancing around his surroundings. The metal was latticed, in a sense, showing the many connecting chambers and divisions that the labyrinth housed, like ornate cathedral windows. As he walked a while, he saw the torches and floating smoke, as if painting the metallic world with church aesthetics. Occasionally, a wall of flame or a series of hot vapor would stream out like wicked tongues from the walls, affectively barring the paths.

In his hubris, Sebastian, being the hell born demon that he was, was confident that such petty things could not harm him. However, as soon as he had drawn close enough to be merely licked by one of those tongues, he jumped back from the feeling of the razor sharp heat that punctured through his pant leg in warning. He silently cursed the logic of this cruel maze, and searched for an alternate route.

"My, it seems that everything here is about keeping me wandering for days on end," Sebastian said under his breath, exasperated, as he balled his fists in reaffirmation, and set off once again for the correct path. After many close shaves, and many, many disappointments and failed routes, he was beginning to lose his legendary composure and patience. After what seemed like hours on end of mindless meandering, he lashed his hand out to strike a latticed wall to smithereens. It gave out a loud screech with each powerfully aggressive strike, which, though it initially sounded like metal being forced to bend, it resembled vaguely the sound of a person's scream.

The wall was not decimated, but the damage was significant. Sebastian, feeling somewhat refreshed after venting on the inanimate object, shook out his hand and pulled on his gloves. No sooner did he choose another path to continue down, than he heard the faint sound of a person's voice. It was very distant, light as a butterfly's wings beating, but as he tried to pick up the origin of the sound, his curiosity was piqued as he heard quite clearly in the darkness, "Sebastian! Sebastian! Where are you?"

The familiar name echoed loudly from within the labyrinth, and Sebastian paused, turning his head toward the direction of the voice. It was strange, and yet so vaguely familiar. It was almost a chime in the lifeless chambers.

At first, he was hesitant to follow the familiar voice, but given his options; wander aimlessly lost in the labyrinth for hours, or pursue the only lead he had. The selection simple, he set off in the direction of the call, navigating his way through the metal corridors until he began to notice slight signs of vegetation sprouting through forced breaks in the stone floor. Only weeds, dry and brittle, but they somehow persisted to grow. As he traversed the winding hall, the weeds began to grow taller, but yellowed all the same.

Periodically, the name was called again, renewing the path he had to take. It lead him down several lengths of hallways choked in dead and dying foliage and broken statues, and as Sebastian neared the origin of the voice, the louder and more desperate it became, as if it was searching for him.

The voice lead him far down the corridors, until a series of wider chambers began to open up to him. Each was filled with the tall tawny grasses, becoming a contained savanna, lit by the persistent flames far beyond the latticed walls. The flickering world around him was unsettling, as the waist high grasses could hide anything from view. He waded through the weeds, the plants yielding to his steps and carving a path in his wake. The demon paused suddenly, as he heard, under the voice that persisted to call his name, a faint, clicking sound within close proximity of himself. He focused on the only exit, his twin garnets narrowing in suspicion as he the clicking became louder.

Suddenly, a large black shape slunk out from the shadows, effectively blocking his path with its body. It growled; a low, deep rumbling sound that streamed continuously from between two rows of sharp glinting white teeth, and its eyes; twin smoldering embers, glowered fiercely from within its face in challenge. Its shoulders were hunched defensively, as it issued its territorial dare to the unwelcome intruder, demanding that the demon retreat or face the consequences.

When Sebastian took the forbidden step forward, the dog barked ferociously, and sprung, baring it's fangs and preparing to clamp them down upon it's challenger's unguarded throat.

"I have no time to play with misbehaving dogs," Sebastian said coldly, raising one hand to effortlessly send the resisting canine careening to the opposite wall. The dog crashed into it with a loud whimper, and it stumbled a bit, before it shook its body, and slunk into the tall grasses, effectively disappearing.

Sebastian scanned the tall grasses, looking for his opponent as it circled him. He caught sight of the slight bend of the grasses, and readied his hand for another counter. The violent canine poised itself to strike once more, and sprang again, though the demon parried it's attack easily, sidestepping it's advance and hitting it at the back of the head, sending it crashing to the floor with another loud whine.

Though it was loosing the battle, the dog remained persistent, and continued to bark and growl defensively, as if protecting something that lay further down the path. Sebastian, not amused by the weak and annoying obstruction, glared frigidly at the animal. Sebastian brandished his pen once more, the shining tip hungry for more scarlet ink.

"My, what a stubborn animal you are," Sebastian said, flexing his fingers, "I suppose if I can't train you to behave, then-"

"_Sebastian! Stop!_"

The demon paused, looking over his shoulder at the source of the voice. From within a small alcove, which was choked with overgrown foliage that had long since turned brown, a loud rustling noise echoed forth, accompanied by a series of movements within the brush. The dog, wounded from its encounter with its adversary, whimpered and lifted itself from the ground, limping towards the rustling noise.

From the tall brush finally emerged a child. A child with ash grey hair, porcelain skin, and large sapphire blue eyes, dressed in a simple suit of green and brown. The child, seeing the limping dog, rushed to his side, and threw his arms around the canine's neck, hugging it to its body and whispering words of scolding for abandoning him in the brush.

Realizing that the name that he had been following all that time was that of the dog, Sebastian scoffed, embarrassed, and almost turned to continue walking onwards. However, he paused in his tracks, as the boy looked up from his pet to say, "I'm sorry. He's a guard dog, so he's supposed to protect me... but he still doesn't know when to come when he's called."

"Disobedience seems to flow in your blood like water," Sebastian said, albeit coldly, though in truth, his interest was piqued by this new entity.

The child was indeed Ciel... though much, much younger than the day he had made the unholy pact with the demon. There was a strange, unnatural aura about him, and as he held the dog against him, it became quite apparent that this child was still untouched by the corruption that flowed so freely within this Hell.

Looking around him for any sign of prying eyes, Sebastian's lips curved into a small smile, as he knelt down upon the ground, eyes level with the child's, and said, "How is your family?"

"My family?" the child tilted his head in curiosity, before he smiled, "quite well, sir. My mummy is waiting for me back at my house," the child's voice then took on an air of uncertainty as he looked down sadly, "but I'm lost. I can't find my way back. I tried to get Sebastian to lead me back home, but every time I try to walk anywhere, I am blocked off by these awful walls of flame, and I have to run away. I can't find my way home, sir… I've been so scared and alone… and…"

The child's sapphire eyes became glazed with new tears, and he choked back a small sob in his throat. He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands, smearing the salty diamonds all over his face. Sebastian pulled from his pocket a white clean handkerchief, offering it to the child. The little boy sniffled twice, and accepted the cloth, allowing the demon to wipe his small face diligently.

Putting the handkerchief away, Sebastian poised another question, "So, you cannot break from this place as well?"

"No sir, I can't. I tried so hard, sir," he hugged his dog's neck, burying his face in the ebony fur, "Sebastian has led me to the same place over and over again, but though I can see my house through the holes in the wall, I can't get through. It's too strong, and there are no other ways through."

"A wall, you say?" Sebastian's lips curved into a comforting smile, "Well then, why don't you lead me there?"

The child looked up at him, his eyes widening in surprise, "Why? Do you think you can find a way to my house?"

"Yes," Sebastian stood and offered a hand out towards the child, "I don't see why I shouldn't return a lost child to his mother."

The very nature of his words, with their many inclinations, made his bemused smile curve more, ever so slightly. As the shy child reached out to accept his hand, a sudden force struck Sebastian's chest, and shoved the demon back a few feet. He slid in the grasses, but crouched low for a moment to brace his feet as to not topple over, and as he stood up straight again, he saw the cause for their interruption. An angry figure stood, with the child safely tucked behind him, ears flattened against his head and tail twitching in warning. Othello looked furious, and as the child looked up at his defender, he turned this head to hiss angrily, "Go!"

Ciel's eyes widened and he turned away, running off through the grasses with his dog bounding in close pursuit.

The feline's blue eyes were blazing hot with warning, focusing once again solidly on the black clad figure standing amongst the grasses, like an unwanted weed. He raised one arm, extending his hand to show pointed nails, poised to attack at any moment if the demon dare take another step in advance.

"Turn, demon, and be away with you," Othello warned with a snarl, "Stay away from that one."

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, "I had no intention of harming the child. I was offering to assist him."

"He does not need assistance!" the feline barked, "Leave him alone, and be away with you!"

The demon raised an eyebrow with interest at the cat's strange reaction to the small lad. Whatever made the feral creature so defensive made Sebastian wonder just what this small child symbolized, being trapped in the metallic labyrinth, unable to get home. However, since the small child had already imparted important information as to a possible escape, he obliged the wary feline with a small bow.

"Very well, I shall leave you be."

With a backwards step in the direction of the path from which the dog had come, Sebastian turned and headed out of the derelict garden, abandoning those two blazing blue eyes, though he could still feel their white hot accusation bearing upon his back. As he followed the winding corridors northward, he mentally cursed himself that he did not have a direction to follow, nor a proper guide.

"_Pst!_"

Sebastian paused, and that knowing smile graced his teasing lips once more as he heard the sound of small footsteps on the metal floor, accompanied by the clicking of claws. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, as the timid child, holding onto his large black companion's neck and looking up at him, "Are you really going to help us get home?"

That Mona Lisa smile that Sebastian so cherished, curled, and Sebastian turned around, pressed a hand against his chest, bowed low, looked up, and said, smoothly, "It would be my honor."

* * *

Hello again everyone~!

AT LONG LAST! I AM BACK!

Sorry about the horrifically, shamefully long hiatus!

I suppose this is the "Season 2" to the Season 2? XDDD

Sorry for the shoddy title of chapter 2, but I really couldn't think of a better one than that! Othello appears twice, so I figured it the best name.

I was a little worried about continuing my fantasy season 2 after the real season 2 debut, and with [INCREDIBLY] so many little similarities in symbolism and ideas to my story, I got a little bummed for a bit about continuing, trying to fix some things here and there, adjusting things unnecessarily. BUT now I'm back, and with the version that I originally intended anyway.

[Seriously! I must have been psychic!]

I actually really became a fan of Alois, and I was glad that I watched the series. It ended so fast!

{SPOILER ALERT HERE}

Actually, the ending of the true Season 2 didn't quite satisfy me at all. As much as I loved Alois, Ciel, and Sebastian, the ending felt so half baked that it was rather sad. Crimson Ciel actually showed up at the end! XDD But the way Ciel just kinda... sat there... and then just became 'blessed' in a way by being turned demon, really just didn't sit well with me. I wanted to see the FINAL confrontation between Sebastian and Ciel, have Ciel EARN that demon title!

{END SPOILER}

Which is why I'm super motivated now to get this show on the road and keep writing to deliver MY ending! Thank you all who stuck with me for so long, those who are new to the story, and those who have commented so much {omg thank you all SOOOO much for your wonderful input and favorites!}, thank you all for reading "HB;MM" and look forward to more chapters soon to come!

Thank you all for your wonderful support and boundless patience!


	34. Chapter 34: Joyeux Anniversaire

After (yet again) another long hiatus, "His Butler; My Master" is finally back for more chapters!

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series shortly after Season 1 completed, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering: _Joyeux anniversaire _means _Happy Birthday _in French.

* * *

**-34-**

**Joyeux Anniversaire**

The house was like an apparition, looming deep in the dim twilight of the realm beyond the metal wall. The rusted surface provided enough bite to further deter the trespassers away from its boon, as Sebastian observed as he smoothed his hand over it, providing enough leverage for him to scan the world beyond the barrier for a possible entry through a small peep hole. The child who had led him to the wall now sat upon the ground, hugging his dog's neck and rocking softly with anxiety and excitement. The demon had promised him that he would be taken home, and although the labyrinth of fire and metal had proved the most daunting obstacle for the small boy, he was mostly concerned that the tall man would be able to carry out his part of the bargain. The dog licked the child softly in reassurance, coaxing a small giggle from his charge.

Sebastian moved away from the wall, and skimmed it with his fingertips as he took a few steps west. The child looked up at him curiously, "Can you see a way in, sir?"

The demon remained quiet for a moment, before tapping on the surface in several places. The metal rumbled in a heavy groan, which reverberated off the walls, filling the expanse with its voice. Despite its solidarity, Sebastian nodded, "This wall is not very thick..."

Taking up a firm stance, he formed a balled fist, and drew back his hand, mentally aiming his blow into the wall. With one swift, yet powerful collision, the wall rumbled loudly in protest, its surface bending and quivering like gelatin. Satisfied with this response, Sebastian pulled back his hand and struck again, and again in succession, until the wall was moaning quite loudly with resistance, and finally, reluctantly, yielded to one final strike. The barrier ripped open around the pale hand, exposing the dark realm beyond its rusty surface. With little effort, he tore the wall further to create a makeshift doorway, which looked like a red fanged maw opening to the belly of darkness.

Sebastian didn't turn around to beckon the child to follow, but instead ventured through the tear. He was welcomed by lush grass; which brushed against him with cool whiskers, as if dusted with morning dew. He turned to hear the soft crunch of the plants beneath another set of feet, as the little boy joined him, walking behind him a little, as if wary of the new and albeit frightening surroundings. The loyal dog stayed close to his young master's side, strutting alongside him as if supporting the child's own gait, like a living walking stick. The demon smiled softly to himself at the irony; the child who grew up so bitter had demanded the demon to stand close to his side, supporting him through his obstacles as he sought his revenge, once had a dog do the exact same, and what more, carried his namesake. The parallels were quite interesting, but it brought back memories that made the demon's smile diminish into a thin grimace. One by one, the flavors that made up the soul he once craved were being eliminated, and all was turning to salt around him as the Corruption continued its wicked influence. Once again, he reminded himself exactly what he was looking for; his ultimate goal was close... he just had to carry on and jump through the right rings to find it. The main problem at hand, however, was the ever-so-quickly diminishing time he had left. The Corruption was gaining strength, and little by little, was testing the demon's boundaries, which were slowly becoming weaker and weaker in this twisted world.

There was a little gasp of excitement, a cheer, and a hurried set of steps as Sebastian looked down to see the child jog past him, the dog trotting at his side. Looking along the small Ciel's path, his eyes fell upon the mansion, which now lay only a few meters away. He followed behind him, stepping out from the grass onto the gravel path of the long drive that led up to the two grand doors. Ciel climbed the stairs and rapped his little fist on the door, waiting for the butler to greet him and allow him entry. None came, except the one former butler, still clad in his black swallowtail coat, that arrived onto the doorstep behind him. As he had often done during his humble servitude, Sebastian once again gripped the cold metal handle and pulled the door wide open, and for good measure, or force of habit, placed his hand to his breast and bowed to the little heir to the Phantomhive Family. The child smiled brightly in response, and gave him a little dip of his head in gratitude before walking inside. Sebastian took one wary look around him, scanning the scenery for any sign of trickery, before stepping beyond the threshold and closing the mahogany barrier behind him.

The grandiose foyer was completely vacant; the lights dim and standing straight, as if not a single breath disturbed their existence. Sebastian looked around, unsurprised that the house was empty, yet intrigued that it seemed completely untouched by the Corruption. In fact, it looked perfect and pristine, as if no one had occupied the place in years. The child did not seem deterred by this, as he immediately went to the stair and began climbing it, calling, "Mummy! Daddy! I'm home!"

No response was offered by the twilight; and Sebastian left the foyer, deciding to follow the small entity. It was not exactly curiosity that led the demon to pursue the child, but a sense that it was important to go where it did, should it yield some sort of clue to further his expedition. Ciel checked every room; his parents' bedroom, the library, the day room, the reception room, the dining hall, a few select guest rooms, the butler's chambers, the kitchens, and yet not a single soul could be found. Disheartened and confused, the child looked up at the demon with sad eyes, "Where is everyone? Where have they gone to?"

Sebastian did not answer, though he did pity the oblivious child. Was he truly so naive, that he did not know what tragedy had befallen the mansion so that it would be devoid of all life?

The child perked up again with a little exclamation of illumination, "I know! They must be in the garden having tea! Mummy loves sitting amongst the flowers, I am certain they are there!"

Little fingers gripped the demon's hand and tugged on him to follow, a trusting little smile playing upon the boy's lips. Deciding to oblige the youth's wishes, he allowed his small guide to lead him back into the foyer.

What they saw immediately disturbed their plans. Standing in the foyer before the doors, cloaked in infernal crimson and black, was the Corruption, who smiled as they approached him, a twisted little smirk that accompanied a look from his one garnet eye that froze the very soul. The child gasped upon seeing him, as if somehow instinctually, he knew that the entity that stood before them was a terrible danger. He lingered close to the demon's side, before edging behind him, keeping the adult between him and the wicked creature that blocked their escape.

"Ah, it is good to be home, isn't it?" he smiled at the pair, feigning relief as he breathed in the familiar perfumed air of the Phantomhive mansion, and exhaled with a heavy sigh, "There is not a thing in the world more wonderful than returning to a safe haven where you know loved ones will welcome you with warm embraces and soft smiles... don't you agree?"

The little child nodded in agreement, though he still shivered behind his shield. Sebastian narrowed his eyes, knowing exactly what the devilish entity was eluding to. He did not back away, but he remained rigid, as if he anticipated an attack at any moment. This only made the wicked youth's lips curl into a delicious little crooked smile, and he laughed lightly, "I see that I have you on edge, Sebastian... quite interesting, given at this particular moment, you know exactly what will happen. You are not thick... or are you? I haven't decided either way yet..."

The little Ciel squeaked out from behind Sebastian, "W-who are you?"

Without answering the child's question, the corrupted Ciel tilted his head to the side a tad and mused, "I wonder where mummy and daddy might be hiding... oh, wait... I know..." he tilted his head further and looked at the child with almost a dead stare, which seemed to freeze the child's blood, as he gasped and stood rooted to the ground in terror, "and so do you. Don't you, Ciel Phantomhive?"

Sebastian felt the little hands release his coat, and heard the sound of hurried footsteps as the child fled from the foyer and headed for the grand staircase. The demon's gaze flashed from his back to the sudden chorus of laughter that rang out from the Corruption's mouth, reverberating off the walls and filling the house with his vocal madness. It drowned most of Sebastian's hearing, but he once again turned to pursue the child as he scaled the stairs once again, slipping once or twice in his haste. The demon had little problem catching up to him, though the youth would not be interrupted from his flight towards the one room that preyed on his mind.

Once on the landing, Ciel ran as fast as his small legs could carry him, and veered around a corner, jogging down a corridor until his little hand fell upon a brass handle, and quickly twisted it, pushing the door wide open.

Sebastian did not need to see the room to which the child had ventured, for he knew exactly which one it was without even looking down the hallway, but as he stood behind the child as he threw open the door, he saw the scene that forever scarred his former master for life. The room wreathed in flame, the furniture host to dancing fires that devoured them whole, and in the center of the room, slouched in an ornate chair, was the late Earl Vincent Phantomhive, and Lady Rachel Phantomhive, grotesquely conjoined by haphazard stitches like a demented rag doll, and just as lifeless. Ciel stood frozen, shaking with unmatchable terror and grief, before suddenly letting out a scream that pierced every wall, as if puncturing space and time with one shrill echoing cry. It rang inside of Sebastian's head, enough even to drive the demon away from the room, covering his ears as if a mandragora had been ripped out of the floorboards.

As he staggered back into the hallway, he was greeted by a mansion completely engulfed in flames, the unbearable heat beating against him and the choking black smoke curling in the air like a contained infernal atmosphere. Though Sebastian was no novice to fire, he had to be careful to navigate the hallway, as it smoldered and groaned underfoot, threatening once again to plunge him into the billowing inferno below that devoured the first floor's corridor. One by one, Sebastian began to finally see the occupants of the Phantomhive mansion; maids and footmen littered the floor, dead, butchered by some unknown entity. As Sebastian arrived upon the landing once again, he saw curled upon the burning foyer the corpse of the dog, its blood splattered against the double doors like grisly paint. As the demon stepped towards the exit, he heard the sound of voices coming from down the hall; all chortling and accompanied by clangs and bangs of metals and china.

He followed the evidence of life, rounding a corner and finding the source of the voices as one exclaimed, "Looky what we have here!"

Three men stood in the reception room, two of which were looting whatever valuables they could salvage from the burning building before the fires spread to their wing. It was apparent by the rifles that some of them carried that they were partially to blame for the murdered staff that Sebastian had seen on his way down to the first floor. It seemed that the angel had not been alone in the massacre of the Phantomhive estate. However, it wasn't the two greedy men who attracted his attention, but the one who now stood looming over a corner beside an elaborate, yet broken, display cabinet. As Sebastian adjusted his angle, he could finally see just what he was cornering.

"Heh, seems like you found a stray kitten!" One of the looters laughed, as he came over to see his friend's prey. Pressed back against the wall, covered in ash and shaking with not only fear and grief, but fierce anger, was Ciel. The boy quickly reached over and grabbed a vase, which he smashed against the wall and held out in front of him like a jagged crown, ready to jab anyone who got too close. The men chortled at this with absolute amusement, with one of them proclaiming in jest, "ooohhhhh! This little kitten has claws!"

One of them lifted his rifle up and aimed it point blank at the child's skull, "We'd better put it down then!"

Ciel stared down the barrel of the gun, terrified, before finally lifting his head and shooting a deadly glare at his enemy, as if challenging him to shoot. Sebastian recognized this look of conviction, the blue fire burning in the eyes of the cornered boy that would continue to burn in his very soul throughout his reign as the Earl of Phantomhive, and as his alleged master. Suddenly, there was another voice that halted the execution, as a fourth man walked into the room from the kitchen, his brown leather jacket splattered with blood. The other three turned their heads to look at him, as he approached the small cluster and peered down at the cornered boy. He put his hand on the rifle, and guided it down to point at the floor, as he looked at his comrades, "Do you know who this is?"

He pointed at a large portrait that adorned the room; the three members of the Phantomhive family sitting in a traditional setting, with Ciel standing between his mother and father, "This little brat is nobility... the new little Earl of Phantomhive."

The other men spoke amongst themselves with murmurs of illumination, before looking back to the boy who was attempting to slide past them. The gun was lifted again to aim at him, but one swift belt of a hand against the boy's retreating back was enough to send the youth careening against the floor and into another wall. Ciel scrambled back up to his feet, just as the man pinned him against the wall by the throat and the wrist. He grinned wickedly, "Congratulations kid, you're now the head of your family... how does it feel?"

The others laughed cruelly, as tears of frustration and sorrow filled Ciel's eyes, the boy attempting to struggle against the adult's iron grip. The man looked over his shoulder, as one asked just what he planned to do to the troublesome young noble in his grasp, and spoke with a haughty tone, as if the goddess of fortune was rubbing his back and filling his pockets with gold, "He's got a pretty little face, doesn't he? Not a single imperfection!"

He tightened his grip on Ciel's throat, as he let one of the boy's wrists go and used his free hand to roughly tilt the boy's head this way and that, "I bet you haven't even scuffed a knee before... probably the worst wound you ever got was spilling some juice on your shirt."

Ciel glared through the suffocation, though he coughed and wheezed in effort to get more oxygen. The man eased up his grip, though he moved closer as if to pin the boy against the wall with his body, "You know, I bet he would fetch a pretty penny on the black market. I hear that some buyers like to purchase pretty little boys like you..."

The suggestion seemed to instantly shock and sicken the boy, as he immediately used his reserved strength to suddenly lash out, raking his nails down the man's face. His tormentor reared back, holding his face in his hands as the initial sting blared across his nervous system. He cried out in anger and pain, before the other two men grabbed the escaping noble and held him in painfully tight grips, each arm clenched tightly and held behind his back, the other pulling his head back to that he could not bite or successfully thrash to escape. The leader growled as he pulled his hand away and turned to look at his companions and their victim, five lines of blood welling up across his face in thin shallow scrapes. He stalked up to them, and slapped the boy across the face hard, before grabbing his face in his hand and forcing him to look up at him. He snarled wickedly, "I hope that one of those sick fucks buys you and guts you like a pig, you wretched little brat."

The boy spat at him defiantly, and was rewarded with another swift belt to his face, this time rendering the youth unconscious. With the fire suddenly erupting into the room, the four bandits picked up their loot and carried them out, their most valuable possession flung over one shoulder like a sheep to the slaughter.

Sebastian looked at the inferno that now engulfed the room, devouring the devastating memory in tongues of dancing orange and red. Determining that the bandits' escape route was the best trail to take, he maneuvered around the broken debris and butchered bodies, until he finally found the exit flung wide open, leading into the dark void. Sebastian paused for a moment before venturing forth, looking back over his shoulder once again, and seeing the Corruption, waltzing in a room filled with gore and flame, like garlands of some hellish soiree, smiling wickedly, his demented laughter the lyrics for the inferno's roar. With a piercing glare, Sebastian turned, and exited the burning ruin of the Phantomhive mansion.

The change of scenery was instantaneous. Instead of entering the lush gardens from the back entrance of the estate, Sebastian fell into the void again. To his own observation, it felt as if he was Lewis Carroll's Alice, falling down the twisted rabbit hole down into an unknown chamber. When he finally met the ground, it was as if gravity had latched onto his ankles and roughly pulled him down onto the floor, forcing him to fall onto his hands and knees. He grimaced, albeit angrily, for being forced into such an unseemly position, but instantly, a trap was sprung, and he was suddenly surrounded on all sides by thick iron bars; a cage befitting a wild animal. He looked around him in the darkness, his keen scarlet eyes straining to adjust to the absence of light, but finding no quarter. Instead, he heard whispered words and the soft weeping of doomed children, the clinking of metal accompanying them.

"Don't be afraid," it was a little girl's voice. It was soft and sweet, despite the circumstances she was in, "no matter what happens... God will protect us."

The other children didn't seem to hear her; it was as if they were trapped in their own mental prisons of woe, deaf to her faithful declarations of hope. It was after several moments that she whispered again, "Don't worry, we'll all be okay... we'll be safe."

It was Ciel's voice that answered her, his tone bitter, poisonous and coated in quivering conviction, and spoken through gritted teeth, "God doesn't care... if he did, you wouldn't be here, would you? Where was he when you were taken? Did he save you when you were ripped out from your life? Was he there when you saw your mother and father's corpse burn to ash? There is no God."

Sebastian closed his eyes. It was here that he had first ever heard the sound of Ciel Phantomhive's voice. His first greatest sin that allowed the demon to seek him out, the scent of the doomed soul so delicious that he pledged his loyalty to the boy merely to obtain it. It was the ringing of the dinner bell; the first line to his summoning. Whereas his official summoning took place upon the bloodied table, it was this moment that first allowed the demon to see the child as a potential master.

The flickering memory instantly silenced, and Sebastian's eyes opened again as he felt little fingers clutching his sleeve once more. He turned and looked down to see that the small Phantomhive child was once again by his side, this time, terrified and shaking like a rabbit, huddled down against him as if seeking warmth and protection. Though Sebastian offered none, the child clung to him desperately, grieving, shaking his head as if trying to drive away the visions of what he had seen and failing miserably with each choked sob.

Suddenly, lights faded into view; flickering candles that littered the room and illuminated the ornate chamber. It was instantly recognizable to the demon, every last panel and tile. One by one, men in robes appeared and stood vigilant around a elongated table. However, no other cage other than the one the demon and child occupied appeared. Each robe stared down at the captives, and Sebastian observed that every single one was faceless, with only an empty void, a dark shadow, occupying each in the general shape of a man. Then, the room became engulfed with a monotone chant, which started slow and quiet at first, before growing, speeding and raising in volume, until one of the cage's sides was briefly opened, and the child was torn away from the demon's side, fingers still clutching for him as if desperate for him to take action to protect him.

Slender fingers wrapped around the child's wrist through the bars, the demon pulling back in an effort to rescue the small Ciel from his impending fate. The shadows pulled back, holding tightly to the boy's legs, though the devil in the cage was a lot stronger and was successfully pulling their victim out of their grip. As the child slowly returned to the side of the trap, Sebastian found himself grinding his teeth from the effort, as more shadows joined the mass trying to pry Ciel away from him. Realizing how important the child was at the last minute, the demon seemed almost desperate to pull him back, though the iron doors where not about to relinquish their captive.

"Please... please don't let them get me," the little Ciel pleaded desperately, as he held on tight to Sebastian's hand. The demon braced both feet against the bars and used his leg strength to give him enough leverage to pull the child from the shadows' grasps, but it was all in vain, as suddenly a mighty force ripped the small hand from Sebastian's, causing the demon to fall ungracefully onto his back. He sat up quickly, looking around frantically for where the child had gone to, and located him almost instantly; he was lying down upon the bloodied sacrificial table, surrounded by the cloaked men. He seemed chained down by some invisible binds, anchoring him into place, pinned, like a blue butterfly to a board.

Sebastian pulled the bars, trying to jolt them free, but they held fast; absolutely refusing to yield to the demon's antics. No matter how hard he tried, he could not break free, and his eyes burned a ferocious purple as he shook them. Whatever force that constructed the cage was becoming too strong; too strong for Sebastian's toleration. If such a construct could contain him already, then it was getting far too dangerous. Still, he was forced to watch, as the small Ciel struggled in vain against the ties that held him.

The chanting finally faded away, and one cloak left the ring of shadows to step towards the altar. As it walked, there was a glint of metal, and Sebastian's eyes widened as the familiar sacrificial dagger slid out from the fabric, handle clutched by five pale, slender fingers. As he approached, a haunting single voice filled the room, and it sent a shiver through every denizen, as it sang, "_Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Ciel..._"

The dagger was raised high above the boy, whose mortified crystalline eyes stared up at the metal's wicked smile in the shivering candlelight, and the hooded figure, who slowly slid back his hood to reveal snow white hair, a single crimson eye, and a twisted grin, "_Happy birthday to me._"

There was a sickening _spluch_, a choked cry, and then nothing but silence. Sebastian stared at the table, where the dead child lay motionless like a small porcelain doll, the knife plunged through his heart. The handle still rested in the crimson Ciel's hand, as he loomed over his lifeless counterpart, as if studying it, searching into its core to make sure it was obliterated. Then came a chuckle, which grew in volume into a victorious laugh, which filled the entire room like a concert hall. The Corruption wrenched the knife free from the child's chest, and jumped up onto the table, holding the blooded dagger aloft, "All hail the birthday boy!"

The room erupted into cheers and applause, and the crimson Ciel suddenly pointed at the cage with his fatal metal, his one eye gloating with victory and malice,"And here is where it all began. The day when my Innocence died... and I came to be. It was I who called to you from the darkness in that boy's tainted heart... my delightful guest of honor, and my talented gardener."

Sebastian glared at him, hearing the cat's words echo inside his mind, "_You're his devilish gardener, and he is your rotten fruit._"

What angered him most, was that he had failed to realize the small entity's worth until it was too late. All that time, he had believed it was merely a ghost, a fleeting memory. He knew that there was a heavy consequence to the death of the complete embodiment of Innocence... and the man was mentally cursing himself over and over at his failure; a thought process that the Corruption detected quite easily, and with the utmost pleasure.

"Poor Sebastian... you finally try to protect something, and you fail. How disappointing... though that was one mistake you are going to regret."

He smiled wickedly and leaped down from his perch, the shadows silencing and watching as the youth made way to the cage. He kept the knife drawn, but he knelt and peered into the cage, keeping the knife poised so that it flirted with the concept of sinking into the soft flesh beneath Sebastian's jaw. The demon glared back at him with burning garnet eyes, which coaxed a smirk from the entity, "My, I don't believe I've seen you in such a state, Sebastian... are you angry?" he tilted his head, considering him like one would consider an animal in a zoo, "Is it because you failed at something, my 'perfect' demon? Or is it because you were too late to realize just what you neglected? Without that final seed of innocence, you know just how well I may flourish now. Trust, love, honesty, the cornerstones of the hesitant mind... now lies dead upon that table. Even when I was stabbed in the body those many years ago, my innocence did not completely fade. I merely banished it to the corners of my mind, allowed it to wander in the darkness while my lust for vengeance brewed in its place. Now, without it, this beautiful world is mine."

He spread his arms wide, and looked up at the ceiling, announcing with a victorious air, "Completely tainted... every inch of this soul is now soaked with my beautiful red dementia!"

Sebastian's eyes fizzled purple again, his teeth grinding together, his glare deadly, as Ciel smirked, "Admit it, devil... you are weak..."

The poisonous miasma of Sebastian's aura began to manifest; tendrils of darkness bleeding out from him and filling the cage. It almost seemed to scorch the ground, licking it with black flame. The demon's fingers clenched tightly at his sides, biting into the floor and puncturing eight holes into the tiles.

This did not deter the Corruption; instead, his smile only grew, and the same flicker of victory filled his eye, "Come on, demon... do it. Manifest in all your glory... show me what you really are beneath that facade you wear so expertly. I want to see you for what you really are, right before I devour you whole."

The Corruption's grin was almost grotesque; it seemed to stretch to an impossible length, as if it took up half of the circumference of the entity's head. His one scarlet eye was open wide, as he leered at the demon in the cage, "I'm going to eat every last shred of you, until you no longer exist as anything but fuel for my own soul, and in turn, I shall become eternal in your place. A demon who will bleed this earth dry and consume every last soul until my dementia reigns supreme!"

Just as Sebastian's mouth opened, wicked fangs extended and eyes burning bright with vicious violet light, something suddenly grabbed a hold of him from behind, wrapping its arms around his shoulders and head. The crimson entity suddenly sat up in anger, as two defiant blue eyes glared back at him for a brief moment, before disappearing with the demon down into the ground; the void closing in their wake immediately, leaving an empty cage, littered with shadowy black feathers as the only evidence of the demon's occupation.

The Corruption's furious screams caused the entire Hell to tremble; the world around him quivering, the memory crumbling into a graveyard of debris, as the earthquake of his madness ensued. Finally, the candlelight died, plunging the realm into a thick shroud of black. In the unyielding darkness, the crimson Ciel's one red eye burned with malice; the only light as the entire room was engulfed in shadow. He stared into the abyss, the evil rumble continuing to echo throughout the world, as his victory was snatched away from him, like a bird to the cat's jaws.

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Long time, no see everyone! After a long time, I am back from the dead to deliver some more sickly sweet dementia to you all. First of all, I must thank you all for your support through these years, and for all of your wonderful reviews!

Also, thanks to those that suggested inspirational songs to help aid my creative processes! They really helped me out a lot and assisted me in getting my muse back. If you have any more suggestions, please tell me!

Anyways, my! This chapter was dark… I am sorry if there are any inconsistencies between it and the real mythos, since I don't quite remember ever seeing just how Ciel got from the Phantomhive mansion to the sacrificial table. Either way, here's my take on it. Also, I am sure there is plenty of confusion, but most of the questions that were brought up here will be answered in the next chapter, so hopefully you'll stick around to find out what happens next!

Thank you all so much for your support, and I look forward to finally getting my machinery into gear and finishing this thing!


	35. Chapter 35: Folie

After (yet again) another long hiatus, "His Butler; My Master" is finally back for more chapters!

My first shot at writing a Kuroshitsuji fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters, and they belong to their rightful owners.

This is just a fantasy outcome I wrote as a continuation of the series shortly after Season 1 completed, so I hope you enjoy it. As warning to younger audiences beneath 18, mature scenes to occur as story progresses.

In case you were wondering: _Folie _means _Madness _in French.

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**-35-**

**Folie  
**

The door to the attic finally yielded to persistent force, as the reaper's shoulder rammed it one final time. The wooden frame shattered, as Grell finally burst into the screaming room, and beheld with wide emerald eyes the root of the chaos that was causing the manor to shriek and quake. The chamber danced; every piece of furniture rocked from side to side, wallpaper tore and curled, singed at the edges by some invisible flame, and various objects littered the floor like debris. The single small oval mirror had shattered; the face burst out from the center as if someone had punched it through the back frame, while the ceiling rained dust from long open cracks, like fresh wounds inflicted by some massive clawed animal, and at the epicenter of the madness, lying where Grell had last left him, was Ciel.

The boy's fingers were scrambling to find some firm purchase, the sheets beneath him torn to shreds, and the mattress bore deep wounds from wicked fingernails. The wall beside him was decorated with garish symbols of dried blood, which upon closer inspection, were all the same design; a star within a circle of thorns. The air was hot and dry, as if all of the moisture had been stolen from the room, but what occupied the small space the most was the screams. Like Hell's Choir, the piercing cries that spilled forth from the youth's lips pierced every wall, and seemed to echo, filling the space like a vocal tornado. Ciel's spine curled, lifting his torso up as high as he could go, the crown of his head pressing hard into the mattress until his spine snapped straight again, dropping him back down to rest firm on his back.

It didn't take much examination for Grell to know exactly what his servant was experiencing, and he approached with a mixture of awe, excitement, and strangely, concern. There was no blood coming from the boy, and yet the wailing that filled the room seemed more painful than any wound that could ever be inflicted. It was a symphony of insanity that somehow coaxed the sadistic reaper's eyes to develop tears, and cause his hand to shake slightly as he reached out one daring hand to touch the poor victim.

Ciel's spine curled again, his fingers clawing at the air, stretched out on each side as if his wrists were fastened to the bed. Another scream tore from his throat, as Grell's fingers lingered only inches from the tormented boy's shoulders, and suddenly, Ciel fell still, dropping back onto the bed stiff as a board. The reaper's eyebrows pinched in confusion, before he finally touched the human lad's collarbone. The skin was boiling hot and clammy, pale as bone china despite the feverish condition. He lay like a corpse, eye closed and chest barely rising with each slow, shallow breath. What's more, the chaos of the room had instantly shut down, leaving only a blanket of silence and eerie stillness.

The scarlet reaper's eyes scanned Ciel's form, taking it all in like a museum exhibit. Despite the situation, the reaper did not take joy from the display; in fact, he examined it as if it was a rare disease. He had only heard of possessions; and any reaper knew the damage that was inflicted upon the soul as a result. Whereas Grell drank in the beauty of the mutilation of the body, damage to the immortal soul was enough to make even the passionate reaper shudder. It was like the raping of one's existence; to have another entity tear into the fabric of your being and shred it apart, wrestle it into submission, and claw throughout your core. There was no escape, no pacifier, that could quell the pain of a demon's possession.

Then, Grell's lips curved into a small smirk, "Hehe... looks like you haven't quite lost interest in him after all, have you, Sebaschan?"

Suddenly, Ciel's eye opened. It was slow, his eyelid like a curtain rising over a stage, and as Grell caught sight of the small action, his own eyes widened with surprise, as a single scarlet orb flicked over to him, and locked directly onto his sight. It was wide, and seemed to bore into his soul.

"Good morning," Grell smiled awkwardly, a little nervous, as that single garnet stared up at him. The reaper felt compelled to step away, as a strange feeling began to creep over his skin, an itch that caused the reaper's flesh to tense unconsciously, but Grell was entranced, like a moth to a flame, a flame that danced within that eye, and seemed to catch the reaper's very core on fire. The boy did not respond to the reaper's salutations, but slowly, he began to rise up, keeping his sight locked directly on the red head's face, unbroken.

The feeling of danger was beginning to scratch at the back of Grell's neck, like a finger dragging a nail from the base of the scalp and down the spine. As the boy sat up completely, he seemed to slump forward, almost as if he didn't have a complete grip on his own body mechanics.

"Sebastian? Is that you in there?" Grell ignored his better instincts and took a step forward to grab Ciel's shoulder and turn him to face him. The red eye had looked down at the floor, as if staring into space. His mistress shook him twice, "You're being very naughty, barging in like that! He's my property now, you know? Tough cookies if you think for one second you're going to eat his-"

A sudden burst of laughter stopped Grell's words cold, as the reaper looked down at the boy who was now shaking with mad giggles. The eye had returned to look at him, wide, laughing maniacally along with the voice. Grell's brow furrowed, when suddenly, he felt a powerful shove against his chest that sent him falling back onto the ground and against the dresser. Shocked, the reaper lifted himself off the floor to see his butler standing before him, his body shivering all over, rigid in motion, but still giggling sinisterly.

"When Will finds out what you did, you're going to regret it, Sebastian," Grell stood up at full height. The possessed boy's laugh only intensified, shivering all over and joints twitching occasionally, "You think yourself so clever? Making us believe you've lost interest in the boy only to sneak into my house and try to eat him from the inside out? Well, you have another thing coming... just you wait..."

"Wait for what, you disgusting wretch?" Ciel's voice was sinister, "Are you going to cut me down again? Watch me bleed for you? I know how much you like red..."

Suddenly, there was a flash, and Ciel launched himself forward, bringing his hand down in an arch. Grell gasped as he saw a quick white glint, a ribbon of scarlet, succeeded by a white hot pain. He looked, shocked, at the boy who stood before him, clutching a shard of glass that was kissed with blood. The reaper reached up to his face, and pulled his hand away; the tips of his fingers were painted with a deep garnet liquid.

"You little bastard! You cut my face!" Grell screeched angrily, and prepared himself to launch at the boy, but Ciel laughed again and ran forward, plowing himself into the reaper and pinning him up against a wall. Grell caught the arm that was trying desperately to stab him with the shard, but his eyes widened with surprise as the usually weak lad was somehow slowly overpowering him. Was it Sebastian's power that allowed the weakling to gain such strength and agility? There was no way it had been there before... perhaps that was why his instincts were blaring that the possessed boy was a force to be reckoned with; with demons being the only enemy to a reaper's purpose, it made sense that he would be on high alert. Usually, Grell delighted in the rush of adrenaline that came with being locked in battle with a devil, but there was something different this time. With his direct orders being that no harm should come to the boy while he was a hostage, and this obvious renewed interest in him from the demon, Grell was presented with a conundrum. If he killed the boy, it could mean his license again, if not worse. However, Ciel was quickly, surprisingly, becoming a critical threat.

Grell twisted just enough to throw Ciel off balance, and whipped around, sending the boy stumbling backwards. However, there was another hot sting, as the shard somehow became lodged in his shoulder. Hissing angrily, the reaper reached over to pull it out, and looked over at the boy, who was laughing from where he stood, his posture rigid,

"I wonder... How do you kill a reaper?" Ciel's voice was chilling, as he mused, "I know that forks can tear your flesh... if I cut you up to bits, will you die, or will you still live as a pile of quivering cubes of meat? Let's experiment, shall we?"

The room suddenly shuddered again, and Grell narrowed his eyes, his razor sharp grin blooming upon his face, "Oh Ciel, a boy after my own heart... if you'd like to play with mommy, let's play."

The reaper went for the door, and ripped it open. Orders or not, he was not about to let the little insolent brat carve him up like a roast. In the attic, there were no suitable weapons, other than the bloody shard, but even that had somehow fallen under the demonic powers manifesting within the possessed youth's aura. Grell stopped dead in his tracks, however, as the floor suddenly gave out in front of him. The house began to tremble again, and the reaper looked around himself as he saw wicked cracks spread over his walls and ceiling. Turning around, he saw the corridor leading up to the attic's stairway. The walls had somehow become scorched black, and the cracks were like tendrils branching out from the darkness, like some insidious disease. The house began to smell like smoke and blood, and Grell's eyes widened as he saw a pale white hand emerge from the darkness behind the wall. He turned and backed up, before jumping across the expanse. The floor gave way again as soon as the reaper's heel found purchase, sending the red head plummeting to the ground floor flat on his back. He groaned upon landing, touching his back as it pulsed red with ache. He rolled onto his hands and knees, and staggered up to his feet, hand on the small of his back as he tried to pop his spine back into alignment.

Then, he heard something that made his blood freeze in his veins. It was a familiar voice, one that he usually beheld with reverence and endearment, like a good friend that filled his life with purpose and pleasure, that took his hand in warm embrace and purred happily. Now, it was a roar that filled the house with echos of hunger, and caused a stone to drop into the reaper's stomach. It roared again, and the house trembled with fear; a metallic scream that made Grell take a step back and shake his head with a thought, _'No way... It's not possible...' _

His thoughts were answered with the sounds of footsteps, and the emergence of the familiar, wicked razor edged grin, clutched in the grip of the crimson eyed entity, who stepped out from behind the wall. Ciel's head turned, almost mechanically, to look at the reaper, his eye widening upon finding his prey, and his lips curling into an insane smile that seemed to match the dead chainsaw that hung from his hand.

"Hehe... look at what I found..." Before Grell could make a dash forward to take back his friend from the possessed Ciel's hands, the chainsaw roared to life, as the delicate white hand tore the starter chord upwards. The roar of the metal caused the reaper to freeze in his tracks and whirl about face, and run the opposite direction. As Sebastian had said, only a reaper's weapon could destroy a reaper itself, and Ciel had found the only death scythe in the house. At that moment, Grell cursed himself for ever thinking it would look good over the fireplace mantle in the reception.

Deciding that trying to avoid the scythe within the house was a terribly silly thing to do, Grell made a bolt for the garden door, but the house shook again, and deposited a cascade of debris to fall in front of the door, effectively blocking the reaper's path. Turning around quickly to backtrack, he suddenly felt the air slice beside him, as the whirling teeth of the chainsaw carved the space only inches from his turning shoulder. The red eye glinted with a sadistic light, as Ciel whirled around in pursuit and pulled his weapon back to throw towards the reaper's retreating back.

Grell narrowly avoided the second attack, as he ducked down just in time behind a cabinet, a hail of wood chips taking the place of blood splatter. He scrambled around the dining table, picking up chairs and flinging them aside to impede the rampage, but the chainsaw ate through every obstacle with reckless abandon. Even as Grell grabbed ahold of another chair and was able to hurl it directly at his pursuer, Ciel brought the scythe down upon it, cutting it in half before it even made contact with his body.

"Oh come on!" Grell cried out, angry. It was all fun and games when he held all of the cards in his hands, namely the one that was able to reduce the other cards to itty bitty pieces, but this was not fun anymore. If he took a gamble and tried to throw himself at the boy to wrestle the chainsaw out of his hands, it could all be over with one wrong move. What's more, his scythe did not run on fuel. Ciel would be able to go on for ages, chasing him around until either he finally reduced him to minced meat or passed out from exhaustion.

Grell gritted his teeth, preparing himself for his escape plan, and overturned the table, throwing it at the boy. The temporary barrier between the chainsaw and himself was enough to allow the reaper to burst out from the dining room and into the kitchens. He looked around for a weapon, and found the knife block. The pairing knife and cleaver rested in place; neither very affective in any sort of combat. He realized that the carving knife was missing, and cursed angrily. Remembering that it was in the lounge, he made due with taking out the cleaver, and turned around just in time to have a shower of sparks rain down upon him. Metal upon metal screeched as the chainsaw gnawed at the poor cleaver clutched in Grell's hand, and the reaper looked beyond his arm at the insane red eye and warped smile, which seemed already filled with malicious victory.

"Time for mistress's just desserts, don't you think?" Ciel pushed down on the chainsaw, Grell's arm quivering under the applied weight and bringing the roaring metal an inch closer to the reaper's face. Grell could feel the whirr of his scythe's teeth nip at his bangs, and he gritted his teeth before lifting one foot up and kicking Ciel square in the stomach. The boy staggered back only slightly, though it gave Grell enough time to slip out of the weapon's reach and bolt for the door again. The reaper slammed through the swinging door into the corridor, and he looked back and forth, looking for an exit. He took a left and ran toward the foyer, only to have a have a roar of metal swing at him horizontally from the intersecting corridor. Grell ducked down just in time to avoid it, shaving off the tip of his bangs. Ciel whipped the saw around again, this time in a vertical arch, and nearly sliced into his victim through his side, but Grell narrowly escaped rolling to the side and scrambling up to his feet again. Ciel staggered after him mechanically, laughing wildly in his mad pursuit.

"I thought you wanted to give me your heart, Grell," the reaper ran up the stairs, as the boy's mocking rumbled throughout the house, "why don't you let me have my present now?"

The reaper rounded a corner and tried to formulate a plan. He saw the broken floorboards, and waited a moment until he heard the sound of the chainsaw grow close. As soon as Ciel was on the landing and just about to turn the corner to see his prey, Grell jumped down through the floorboards. He crept quietly towards the foyer, where he saw the front door looming beyond the debris. Finally, he made a break for it, only to find out that the door knob had been sliced clean off, along with the lock knob, effectively locking him in. He would have pounded at the door, only he could hear the returning roar of the chainsaw from the second floor landing, and had to think quickly. He dove into the room beside the door; the dark room where the crematorium resided beside the boiler. Yanking the small iron door open, he slid into the chamber quickly, being quiet to shut it behind him. In the blackness, Grell crouched low, and silenced his breathing altogether. He waited in the dark, listening. The crematorium had to be lit from the inside after being stocked with wood, and If Ciel were to look inside the chamber and try to come in for him, he would have to crawl inside and leave the chainsaw. If he tried to stick the chainsaw in first to wave about and slice at Grell, all he would have to do is catch the wrist and yank the scythe free. He pressed himself back against the side of the hole, trying his best to flatten himself against it, despite his crouching position.

He listened intently for the sound of the saw, but it seemed to be gone altogether. Grell's eyebrows narrowed, and his shoulders tensed further, as he strained to hear any evidence of the boy's whereabouts.

There was a strange smell that seemed to creep up from within the chamber; it was not the scent of death or decay, but smoke. He covered his nose, and looked around. He had ceased to breathe, but he could feel the smoke fill the chamber quickly, and along with it, came a building heat. It pulsed, like the beating of a heart, rising in temperature until Grell could feel his body begin to perspire. He wiped his brow, and looked all over the chamber. There was no fire, but the heat was growing to unbearable temperatures, and he was beginning to panic. Ciel had obviously discovered he was in the crematorium and was trying to smoke him out so that he could behead him like Marie Antoinette as soon as he emerged from the little iron door.

The heat escalated to the point that Grell could smell his own hair sizzling. His skin was beginning to sting, his eyesight seeing red with every new wave of pain from the heating room. The reaper lightly hit his head against the wall, as if trying to drum out a plan, and coming only to two words, '_I'm doomed._'

He sat back into the ash, and tried to hold back frustrated tears. He slumped, his hands falling to his sides, before he felt something sharp touch the top of his hand. He looked down and picked up the item in the dark, and though he couldn't see it, he explored it with his fingers. The bone was splintered in several places, forming a few razor sharp points. Finally, Grell lifted his head with determined eyes. If he was going to die, it wasn't by some snobby little brat, and certainly not by his own scythe. He gripped the bone tightly with one hand.

'_No more miss nice girl,_' Grell thought, affirming his decision, and he braced himself over the exit, before finally crawling out. He looked around cautiously. The boy was nowhere to be seen, the corridor beyond the dark room dead silent. Not letting his guard down for a minute, an ash coated reaper slunk out from the crematorium, before crawling along the floor and looking around the corner, clutching the bone with one hand as a dagger. He looked around cautiously, and slipped out into the foyer, body poised like a cat ready to strike. Suddenly, he turned towards the door, as the roar of metal sprung to life again. The laugh of the boy and the chainsaw twisted together in a double helix of madness, as Ciel began walking towards him, staggering like a drunk man and carrying the scythe poised to strike.

It was with this that Grell shot forward with one last Hail Mary, and ducked beneath the chainsaw, plunging the bone through Ciel's side. The boy suddenly froze with shock, the saw still eating up the air above the reaper's head. He looked down at the protrusion that began to ooze blood like a loosened stopper to a wine bottle, and then looked at the reaper's twin emerald eyes, which were one again laughing with a victorious, delighted air, before his eye narrowed into a deadly red slant, and he brought the chainsaw sideways and hit the side of Grell's head with the body of it at full force, sending the reaper careening into the opposite wall. The red head collided with it, and tried to get to his feet again, before Ciel stood over him, still pierced by the shank of bone and bleeding all over the floor. The youth seemed utterly unfazed by the wound, but instead of screaming in pain, he rose his weapon in rage. His smile returned, and the sadistic, madness infused laugh spilled from his lips as he held the scythe aloft, ready to bring down upon his victim and tormentor.

Suddenly, the boy's body crumpled to the floor, the live chainsaw skittering across the floor, narrowly missing Grell's body. The reaper jumped with a shocked yip, trying to escape it quickly, before looking up at what exactly saved his life. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw a familiar face, reclining against his own death scythe that was parked up against his hip and shaking his hand that had just rendered the human boy unconscious once again.

"Ronald?"

The two toned reaper finished flexing his hand, before offering up a little smirk, "Qui, mon ami. What would you do without me?"

He offered his hand to help his senior associate up, which Grell delightedly took, as if he was his knight in shining armor. Ronald ended the illusion rather quickly, looking down at the boy who lay bleeding on the ground, "Well, so much for that... William's going to kill you."

"He was trying to kill me!" Grell barked, before kicking the fallen boy in the kneecap, hard, "Little bastard."

"He is possessed by a demon, ," another voice came from the ruins of the doorway, which had been reduced to bark chips by Ronald Knox's versatile lawnmower. William T. Spears stepped out of the debris, and looked down at the fallen youth, rolling him onto his back to fully examine the damage. Looking down at the sliver of bone, he clicked his tongue and shook his head, before glancing over his shoulder at his incompetent coworker who stood in the foyer dressed in a ripped up night gown and coated in ash.

"Will, it wasn't my fault he turned into a maniac and chased me around my own house," he crossed his arms, pouting, "he could have killed me... that's enough to file for workman's compensation."

"Well, if you hadn't used your death scythe as decoration, then you might have had a claim," William said rather bluntly, fixing his glasses as he took out a pen and notebook from his jacket pocket. He scratched down several notes, examining several aspects about the fallen boy's condition. Grell caught sight of "_Injury induced by associate Grell Sutcliff, right side of torso, non-fatal, yet person in question in critical condition due to negligence. Investigate further and file report of possible disciplinary action._"

Grell groaned with protest, before Ronald interjected, "If you had taken the class on how to deal with special cases of possessions, you might have figured out how to properly handle this situation..."

"Stop calling me incompetent, Ronald!" Grell stomped his foot, "How am I supposed to handle this? First, the kid starts destroying my house, and then he wakes up laughing his head off, then he cuts my beautiful face, and then chases me all over the place with my own scythe! I had to hide in the crematorium, god damn it."

Ronald waved his hand over his nose, "I noticed... you smell like burnt hair."

The scarlet reaper balled up his fists, opening his mouth to retort, when William spoke again, "Well, first of all, we will have to dress the wound so that he doesn't die. Then, we will have to put him somewhere so that he can rest. Until Sebastian re-emerges from Ciel Phantomhive's soul, we must not disturb him further. You say that he woke up mad, ?"

Grell nodded with affirmation, and looked down at the boy accusingly, "Mmhm... he woke up utterly round the bend... started laughing like a maniac, and he was quite quick and strong, despite being one of the weakest little runts in the world..."

"I wonder," William tapped his mouth in thought, considering the information, "if this hasn't gone completely wrong. When a demon possesses a soul, he will try to fuse the soul with himself until he not only owns the skin that housed it, but the very essence of the victim itself. If Ciel Phantomhive was successfully possessed by Sebastian Michaelis, I doubt he would have shown such sloppy decorum. If that demon wanted to kill you, he would have had no trouble."

"But he had red eyes when he woke up," Grell interjected, which piqued his superior's interest and caused him to turn around

"Is that so?" He looked perplexed, and turned his attention back to the boy. Reaching one hand out to touch Ciel's eyelid, he pried it open just a tad. Instead of a blazing scarlet, a crystal blue eye was rolled back into the youth's head.

Ronald took a quick glance as well, before looking back at his filthy and albeit disgruntled coworker, as he tried to dust off his beloved ruined nightgown in vain, "Well, either you were seeing things, or his eye magically turned back to blue again."

"What?" Grell quickly moved around the pair, dropped to his hands and knees, and opened Ciel's eye again, examining it for himself and seeing the blue rim beneath the cage of black eyelashes. His expression was not only one of frustration, but also disappointment, as he sat back on his calves and pouted at the loss of that brilliant scarlet jewel that had looked utterly beautiful in that twisted face. After the ordeal, Grell began to feel the euphoric rush of it all, the beautiful chase throughout the house, the shattering of the manor around them like a passionate ballet... it dawned upon Grell that it was quite possibly one of the most romantic experiences he had ever had in his life, and he touched the side of the dangerous boy's face with an expression of tender nostalgia.

"Well, what does it mean then?" Ronald asked as he looked at his seniors for their analysis.

William stood up, and pushed his glasses up to sit properly on his nose, "It may be one of two things... one, Sebastian Michaelis has failed to properly fuse himself with Ciel Phantomhive's soul, or two, his soul is trying to absorb the intruding demon's essence to become a demon himself. I believe the second is most likely. Possessions are horribly dangerous for both the victim and the participating demon. The soul is sought out for a reason, and like a body to an invading disease, it will try to absorb the attacker and convert it into something beneficial. I suppose that is what Ciel Phantomhive is unconsciously attempting in retaliation. As Sebastian spends more time inside the soul, he will grow weaker as the soul begins to absorb his essence, which would explain the sudden demonic energy that radiated from the boy and caused him to go on his mad spree. Of course, if Sebastian's soul is absorbed, it will be less than ideal. If we lose him, then all of our resources and work hours will be severely wasted. As much as I want to punish him for this violation of our agreement, there is nothing we can do until he removes himself from Ciel's soul. Until then, we will simply have to watch over Mr. Phantomhive until this condition concludes itself."

"This all could have been avoided if _somebody _had been watching Sebastian more carefully," Grell glared at Ronald, as the blonde reaper raised his hands up in his defense, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Speak for yourself, senior. I have been stuck watching that demon for the past six years! Given our history, it has been one hell of a shit job. Do you know how difficult that is, let alone creepy? Every night I think he's going to assassinate me... Hell, I haven't had a decent night's sleep since this assignment began. I keep sleeping with my death scythe, and that is not comfortable! Also, I haven't even enjoyed a single night drinking with friends or meeting fine Parisian ladies... this is a trip wrongfully wasted, I tell you."

"This is not a vacation, , this is an assignment; one that you seem to have been neglecting as of late. Ever since your recent transfer to the Parisian Division, you have been slipping up too much for comfort. I have had multiple reports that Sebastian Michaelis had left the compound and was seen wandering free in the city, along with the witness report by Ciel Phantomhive himself regarding the Dahlia Sutcliff incident. That is probably the reason that fell into this dismal state. The plan was that the demon was not supposed to locate him, let alone torment him while he is in our custody. This is a mistake that will be examined when it comes to your annual review."

Ronald opened his mouth to defend himself, but groaned in defeat, as Grell smirked at him with an expression that read '_serves you right_',

"And you, ," William turned, which stripped the scarlet reaper of his smile, "Not only did you go against your instruction and harm the boy, but you let this all go way out of hand. Perhaps I made a poor judgment giving this assignment to you. This will also go to your probation hearing."

Grell's expression was a doppleganger of Ronald's, before he hung his head and nodded, "Understood, Will..."

The bureaucratic reaper nodded and tucked away his notebook and pen, before instructing his associates to take the boy into the kitchen for some amateur treatment. As Grell took the upper half and Ronald took the legs, Ciel's body hung limp as a rag doll, his head lolling lazily from side to side, his stillness masking the madness that continued to rampage throughout his entire soul.

* * *

Chapter 35 everyone~! Two chapters? Oh my goodness! It's like the old days!

Anyways, this one has been a lot of fun to write... and finally, Ciel gets a little revenge for all the shit that Grell has put him through. About time, right?

Also, you may have noticed that TADA! Ronald Knox makes an appearance here!

Now, this one was the only major change that I made to the story. During the first year I wrote this, I don't believe had been written in the manga yet. Either way, I decided that his personality would probably work in the place of my original character, Albel von Rhys, who was originally going to be the reaper in charge of watching Sebastian. Since he is one of my friend's favorite characters, and I spend a lot of time RPing with him, I decided he needed a cameo in "His Butler, My Master".

I'm sorry if he wasn't written very well though... I never had a hand in writing for Ronnie myself... so it's all new to me. Still, I thought it would be fun to add him.

Anyways! The songs that I listened to while writing this one were pretty random, but they fit the mood for when I conjured up this chapter: "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga, "Bloody Mary" by Lady Gaga, "Bird from a Worm" by The Used, and "Hizamazuite ashi wo Oname" from the Princess Resurrection OST. ^_^ Anyways, stay tuned for more chapters!

Thank you for your wonderful reception and great support!


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